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:
IX
1
2
3
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THE
it
W:
PR ATRIE-BIRD.
BT THE HON.
CHABLES AUGUSTUS MURRAY.
AUTHOR OF i*,
•' TRAVELS IN NORTH AMERICA."
Ferdinand. Most siire the GoddeM
On whom these airs attend —
My prime requeat
Which I do last pronounce is, O you wonder,
If you be maid or no 7
Miranda. No wonder, Sir,
But certainly a maid.
Ferdinand. My language, Heav^« !^^ ^^ .^
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. L
LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
1844.
\ ,
'» »
■I"
■',1
< ■•<
VI
LONDON :
Printed hv S. & J. Bentley, Wilson, and Pley,
Bangor House, Shoe Lane.
f
M
in
PREFACE.
I
If
I
t
"I HATE a Preface!" Such will probably be the
reader's exclamation on opening this volume. I will,
however, pursue the subject a little further in the form
of a dialogue.
Atetkor. — " I entirely agree in your dislike of a Pre-
face ; for a good book needs none, and a dull book can.
not be mended by it."
Reader. — " If then you coincide in my opinion, why
write a Preface ? Judging from appearances, your book
is long enough without one 1 "
A. — " Do not be too severe; it is precisely because
the road which we propose to travel together is of con-
siderable extent, that I wish to warn you at the outset of
the nature of the scenery, and the entertainment you are
likely to meet with, in order that you may, if these
afford you no ^attraction, turn aside and seek better
amusement and occupation elsewhere."
R. — " That seems plausible enough ; yet, how can I
be assured that the result will fulfil your promise ? I
once travelled in a stage coach, wherein was suspended,
for the benefit of passengers, a coloured print of the
watering-place which was our destination ; it represented
& magnificent hotel, with extensive gardens and shrub-
beries, through the shady walks of which, gaily attired
parties were promenading on horseback and on foot.
When we arrived, I found myself at a large, square, un-
sightly inn by the sea-side, where neither flower, shrub,
nor tree was to be seen ; and on inquiry, I was in-
formed that the print represented the hotel as the pro-
prietor intended it to be ! Suppose I were to meet with
a similar disappointment in my journey with you ? "
IV
PREFACE.
A. — " I can at least offer you this comfort ; that
whereas you could not have got out of the stage half way
on the road without much inconvenience, you can easily
lay down the book whenever you find it becoming tedious ;
if you seek for amusement only, you probably will be
disappointed, because one of my chief aims has been to
a£fbrd you correct information respecting the habits,
condition, and character of the North American Indians
and those bordering on their territory. I have intro-
duced also several incidents founded on actual occur-
rences ; and some of them, as well as of the characters,
are sketched from personal observation."
R. — " Indeed I you are then the individual who re-
sided with the Pawnees, and published^ a few years since,
your Travels in North America. I suppose we may ex-
pect in these volumes a sort of pot-pourri, composed of
all the notes, anecdotes^ and observations which you
could not conveniently squeeze into your former book?*'
A, (looking rather foolish.^ — " Although the terms in
which you have worded your conjecture are not thu
most flattering, I own that it is not altogether without
foundation ; nevertheless. Gentle Reader — "
R. — " Spare your epithets of endearment ; or at least
reserve them until I have satisfied myself that I can
reply in a similar strain."
A. — " Nay, it is too churlish to censure a harmless
courtesy that has been adopted even by the greatest
dramatists and novelists from 2;he time of Shakspeare to
the present day."
R. — " It may be so ; permit me, however to request,
in the words of one of those dramatists to whom you
refer, that you will be so obliging as to
* Forbear the prologue,
And let me know the substance of thy tale ! ' "
The Orphan.
i
W>(
THE
PRAIRIE-BIRD.
;:r
CHAPTER I.
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IN WHICH THE READER WILL FIND A .SKETCH OF A VILLAGE
IN THE WEST, AND WILL BE INTRODUCED TO SOME OF THE
DRAMATIS PERSONiE.
■* •" '■ ."■ ' -#.,.'■■■ •
There is, perhaps, no country in the* world
more favoured, in respect to natural advantages,
than the State of Ohio in North America: 'the
soil is of inexhaustible fertility; the climate tem-
perate; the rivers, flowing into Lake Erie to the
north, and through the Ohio into the Mississippi
to the south-west, are navigable for many hun-
dreds of miles, the forests abound with the finest
timber, and even the bowels of the earth pay,
VOL. I. B
2 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
in various kinds of mineral, abundant contribu-
tion to the general wealth: th thern fron-
tier of the State is bounded by loble river
from which she derives her na and which
obtained from the early . <^ncl' ers and mis-
sionaries the well-deserve< nation of " La
Belle Riviere."
Towns and cities are now multiplying upon
its banks ; the axe has laid low vast tracts of its
forest; the plough has passe*.' over many thou-
sand acres of the prairies which it fertilized;
and crowds of steamboats, laden with goods,
manufactures, and passengers from every part
of the world, urge their busy way through its
waters.
Far different was the appearance and con-
dition of that region at the period when the
events detailed in the following narrative oc-
curred. The reader must bear in mind that,
at the close of the last century, the vast tracts
of forest and prairie now forming the States of
Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois, were all included in
what was then called the North-west Territory :
it was still inhabited by numerous bands of In-
• "^
-fv
THE PRAIRIE-DIRD. 3
dian tribes, of which the most powerful were the
Lenape or Delawares, the Shawanons, the Mi-
amies, and the Wyandotes or Hurons.
Here and there, at favourable positions on
the navigable rivers, were trading ports, de-
fended by small forts, to which the Indians
brought their skins of bear, deer, bison, r*nd
beaver; receiving in exchange, powder, riftes,
paint, hatchets, knives, blankets, and other ar-
ticles, which, although unknown to their fore-
fathers, had become to them, through their in-
tercourse with the whites, numbered among the
necessaries of life. But the above-mentioned
animals, especially the two last, were already
scarce in this region ; and the more enterprising
of the hunters, Indian as well as white men,
made annual excursions to the wild and bound-
less hunting-ground, westward of the Mississippi.
At the close of the eighteenth century, the
villages and settlements on the north bank of
the Ohio, being scarce and far apart, were built
rather for the purpose of trading with the In-
dians than for agriculture or civilized industry ;
and their inhabitants were as bold and hardy,
. b2
'^.
4
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
sometimes as wild and lawless, as the red men,
with whom they were beginning to ^iispute the
soil.
Numerous quarrels arose between these west-
ern settlers and their Indian neighbours ; blood
was frequently shed, and fierce retaKfition en-
sued, which ended in open hostility. The half-
disciplined militia, aided sometimes by regular
troops, invaded and burnt the Indian villages ;
while the red men, seldom able to cope with
their enemy in the open field, cut ofi^ detached
parties, massacred unprotected families, and so
swift and indiscriminate was their revenge, that
settlemencs, at some distance from the scene
of war, were often aroused at midnight by the
unexpected alarm of the war-whoop and the fire-
brand. There were occasions, however, when
the Indians boldly attacked and defeated the
troops sent against them; but General Wayne,
having taken the command of the western forces,
(about four years before the commencement of
our tale,) routed them at the battle of the
Miamies, with great slaughter; after which many
of them went off to the Missain plains, and
// ,
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
■#
those who remained, no more ventured, to ap-
pear in the field against the United States.
1 One of the earliest trading ports established
in that region was Marietta, a pretty village
situated at the mouth of the Muskimgum river,
where it falls into the Ohio. Even so far back
as the year 1799 it boasted a church, several
taverns, a strong block-house, serving as i pro-
tection against an attack from the Indian,;
stores for the sale of grocery; and, in short,
such a collection of buildings as has, in more
than one instance in the western states of Ame-
rica, grown into a city with unexampled rapidity.
• This busy and flourishing village had taken
the lead, of all others within a hundred miles,
in the construction of vessels for the navigation
of the Ohio and Mississippi ; nay, some of the
more enterprising merchants there settled, had
actually built, launched, and freighted brigs and
schooners of sufficient burthen to brave the seas
in the Mexican gulf; and had opened, in their
little inland port, a direct trade with the West
Indian islands, to which they exported flour,
pork, maize, and other articles, their vessels
6 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
returning laden with fruit, coffee, sugar, and
rum. ;. . ft .
The largest store in the village, situated in
the centre of a row of holises fronting the river,
was built of brick, and divided into several
compartments, wherein were to be found all
the necessaries of life, — all such at least as were
called for by the inhabitants of Marietta and
its neighbourhood ; one of these compartments
was crowded with skins and furs from the
North West, and with clothes, cottons, and
woollen stuffs, from England; the second with
earthenware, cutlery, mirrors, rifles, stoves,
grates, &c. ; while in the third, which was cer-
tainly the most frequented, were sold flour,
tea, sugar, rum, whiskey, gunpowder, spices,
cured pork, &c. ; in a deep corner or recess
of the latter was a trap-door, not very often
opened, but which led to a cellar, wherein was
stored a reasonable quantity of Madeira and
claret, the quality of which would not have
disgraced the best hotel in Philadelphia.
Over this multifarious property on sale, pre-
sided David Muir, a bony, long-armed man of
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 7
about forty-five years of age, whose red, bristly
hair, prominent cheek bones, and sharp, sunken
grey eyes, would, without the confirming evi-
dence of his broad Scottish accent, have indi-
cated to an experienced observer the country
to which he owed his birth. In the duties of
his employment, David was well seconded by
his helpmate, — a tall, powerful woman, whose
features, though strong and masculine, retained
the marks of early beauty, and whose voice,
when raised in wrath, reached the ears of every
individual, even in the furthest compartment of
the extensive store above described. -
David was a shrewd, enterprising fellow, trust-
worthy in matters of business, and peaceable
enough in temper; though in more than one
affray, which had arisen in consequence of some
of his customers, whitemen and Indians, having
taken on the spot too much of his " fire-water,"
he had shown that he was not to be affronted
with impunity ; nevertheless, in the presence of
Mrs. Christie (so was his spouse called) he was
gentle and subdued, never attempting to rebel
against an authority which an experience of
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
■\
twenty years had proved to be irresistible ; one
only child, aged now about eighteen, was the
fruit of their marriage; and Jessie Muir was
certainly more pleasing in her manners and in
her appearance than might have been expected
from her parentage ; she assisted her mother in
cooking, baking, and other domestic duties, and,
when not thus engaged, read or worked in a
corner of the cotton and silk compartment over
which she presided : two lads, engaged at a
salary of four dollars a-week, to assist in the
sale, care, and package of the goods, completed
David's establishment, which was perhaps the
largest and the best provided that could be
found westward of the Alleghany mountains.
It must not be supposed, however, that all
this property was his own : it belonged for the
most part to Colonel Brandon, a gentleman
who resided on his farm, seven or eight miles
from the village, and who entrusted David
Muir with the entire charge of the stores in
Marietta; the accounts of the business were
regularly audited by the colonel once evary
year, and a fair share of the profits as regu^
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
9
larly made over to David, whose accuracy and
integrity had given much satisfaction to his
principal.
Three of the largest trading vessels from the
port of Marietta were owned and freighted by
Colonel Brandon; the command and manage-
ment of them being entrusted by him to Ed-
ward Ethelston, a young man who, being now
in his twenty-eighth year, discharged the duties
of captain and supercargo with the greatest
steadiness, ability, and success.
As young Ethelston and his family will occu-
py a considerable place in our narrative, it may
be as well to detail briefly the circumstances
which led to his enjoying so large a share of
the colonel's affection and confidence.
About eleven years before the date men-
tioned as being that of the commencement of
our tale, Colonel Brandon, having sold his pro-
perty in Virginia, had moved to the Northwest
Territory, with his wife and his two children,
Reginald and Lucy ; he had persuaded, at the
same time, a Virginian friend, Digby Ethelston,
who, like himself, was descended from an an-
b6
10
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
cient royalist family in the mother country, to
accompany him in this migration ; the feelings,
associations, and prejudices of both the friends
had been frequently wounded during the walr
which terminated in the independence of the
United States ; for not only were both attached
by those feelings and associations to the old
country, but they had also near connexions
resident there, with whom they kept up a
friendly intercourse.
It was not, therefore, difficult for Colonel
Brandon to persuade his friend to join him in
his proposed emigration; the latter who was a
widower, and who, like the Colonel, had only
two children, was fortunate in having under
his roof a sister, who being now past the prime
of life, devoted herself entirely to the charge
of her brother's household. Aunt Mary (for
she was known by no other name) expressed
neither aversion nor alarm at the prospect of
settling permanently in so remote a region ;
and the two families moved accordingly, with
goods and chattels, to the banks of the Ohio.
The colonel and his friena were both pos-
:*u
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. . 11
sessed of considerable property, a portion of
which they invested in the fur companies,
which at that time carried on extensive traffic
in the northwest territory ; they also acquired
from the United States government large tracts
of land at no great distance from Marietta,
upon which each selected an agreeable site
for his farm or country-residence.
Their houses were not far apart, and though
rudely built at first, they gradually assumed
a more comfortable appearance; wings were
added, stables enlarged, the gardens and peach-
orchards were well fenced, and the adjoining
farm -offices amply stocked with horses and
cattle.
For two years all went on prosperously ; the
boys, Edward Ethelston and Reginald Bran-
don, were as fond of each other as their fathers
could desire ; the former, being three years the
senior, and possessed of excellent qualities of
head and heart, controlled the ardent and some-
what romantic temper of Reginald ; both ^vere
at school near Philadelphia; when on a beau-
tiful day in June, Mr. Ethelston and Aunt
12
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
Mary walked over to pay a visit to Mrs.
> Brandon, leaving little Evelyn (who was then
about eight years old) with her nurse at home;
they remained at Colonel Brandon's to dine,
and were on the point of returning in the after-
noon, when a farm-servant of Mr. Ethelston's
rushed into the room where the two gentlemen
were sitting alone; he was pale, breathless, and
so agitated that he could not utter a syllable:
" For heaven's sake, speak ! What has hap-
pened P " exclaimed Colonel Brandon.
A dreadful pause ensued ; at length, he
rather gasped than said, " The Indians ! " and
buried his face in his hands, as if to shut out
some horrid spectacle !
Poor Ethelston's tongue clove to his mouth ;
the prescient agony of a father overcame him.
" What of the Indians, man?" said Colonel
Brandon; angrily, "'sblood, we have seen In-
dians enough hereabout before now ; — what the
devil have they been at ? "
A groan and a shudder was the only reply.
The colonel now lost all patience, and ex-
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
18
claimed, " By heavens, the sight of a red-skin
seems to have frightened the fellow out of his
senses ! I did not know, Ethelston, that you
trusted your farm-stock to such a chicken-
heart as this ! "
Incensed by this taunt, the rough lad replied,
" Colonel ! for all as you be so bold, and have
seen, as they say, a bloody field or two, you'd
a' been skeared if you 'd a' seen this job ; but
as for my being afeared of Ingians in an up and
down fight, or in a tree-skrimmage — I don't
care who says it— faint a fact."
"I believe it, my good fellow," said the
Colonel ; ** but keep us no longer in suspense
— say, what has happened?"
" Why, you see. Colonel, about an hour ago,
Jem and Eliab was at work in the 'baccy-field
behind the house, and nurse was out in the
big meadow a walkin with Miss Evelyn, when
I heard a cry as if all the devils had broke
loose; in a moment, six or eight painted In-
gians with rifles and tomahawks dashed out of
the laurel thicket, and murdered poor Jem and
u
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
Eliab before they could get at their rifles which
stood by the worm fence;* two of them then
went after the nurse and child in the meadow,
while the rest broke into the house, which they
ransacked and set 'o fire I"
" But my child ?" cried the agonized father.
" I fear it's gone too," said the messenger of
this dreadful news. " I saw one devil kill and
scalp the nurse, ond t'other," — here he paused,
awe-struck by the speechless agony of poor
Ethelston, who stood with clasped hands and
bloodless lips, unable to ask for the few more
words which were to complete his despair.
" Speak on, man, let us know the worst ; '"
said the Colonel, at the same time supporting
the trembling form of his unhappy friend.
" I seed the tomahawk raised over the sweet
child, and I tried to rush out o' my hidin' place
to save it, when the flames and the smoke
broke out, and I tumbled into the big ditch
* It may be necessary to inform some of our English
readers, that a worm fence is a coarse, zigzag railing, com-
mon in the new settlements of America, where timber is
plentiful.
:
,
(
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V--
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
15
below the garden, over head in water ; by the
time I got out and reached the place, the red
devils were all gone, and the house, and straw,
and barns all in a blaze !"
Poor Ethelston had only heard the first few
words — they were enough — his head sunk upon
his breast, his whole frame shuddered convul-
sively; and a rapid succession of inarticulate
sounds came from his lips, among which no-
thing could be distinguished beyond "child,"
« tomahawk," « Evelyn."
It is needless to relate in detail all that fol-
lowed this painful scene; the bodies of the
unfortunate labourers and of the nurse were
found ; all had been scalped ; that of the child
was not found; and though Colonel Brandon
himself led a band of the most experienced
hunters in pursuit, the trail of the savages
could not be followed; with their usual wily
foresight they had struck off through the forest
in different directions, and succeeded in baf-
fling all attempts at discovering either their
route or their tribe; messengers were sent to
the trading posts at Kaskaskia, Vincennes, and
■^3t.
16
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
even to Genevieve, and St. Louis, and all re-
turned dispirited by a laborious and fruitless
search.
Mr. Ethelston never recovered this calami-
tous bio, ; several fits of paralysis, following
each other in rapid succession, carried him off
within a few months. By his will he appointed
a liberal annuity to Aunt Mary, and left the re-
mainder of his property to his son Edward, but
entirely under the control and guardianship of
Colonel Brandon.
The latter had prevailed upon Aunt Mary
and her young nephew to become inmates of his
house ; where, after the soothing effect of time
had softened the bitterness of their grief, they
found the comforts, the occupations, the en-
dearments, the social blessings embodied in the
word " home." Edward became more fondly
attached than ever to his younger companion,
Reginald ; and Aunt Mary, besides aiding Mrs.
Brandon in the education of her daughter,
found time to knit, to hem, to cook, to draw,
to plant vegetables, to rear flowers, to read, to
give medicine to any sick in the neighbour-
I
iiwtiES
iiliHHHWIWIWllHi'l
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
17
d all re-
fruitless
calami-
bllowing
him off
>pointed
'< the re-
ird, but
iship of
; Mary
3 of his
>f time
f, they
le en-
in the
fondly
anion,
Mrs.
?hter,
draw,
id, to
30ur-
hood, and to comfort all who, like herself, had
suffered under the chastising hand of Provi-
dence,
Such were the circumstances which (eleven
years before the corrimencement of this narra-
tive) had led to the affectionate and paternal
interest which the Colonel felt for the son of
his friend, and which was increased by the high
and estimable qualities gradually developed in
Edward's character. Before proceeding further
in our tale, it is necessary to give the reader
some insight into the early history of Colonel
Brandon himself> and into those occurrences in
the life of his son Reginald, which throw light
upon the events hereafter to be related.
18
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
CHAPTER II.
CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT OF THE MAIIRIAOK OP COLONEL
DRANDON AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.
.«
George Brandon was the only son of a
younger brother, a scion of an ancient and
distinguished family: they had been, for the
most part, staunch Jacobites, and George's
father lost the greater part of his property in
a fruitless endeavour to support the ill-timed arid
ill-conducted expedition of Charles Edward, in
1745.
After this he retired to the Continent and
died, leaving to his son little else besides his
sword, a few hundred crowns, and an untar-
nished name. The young man returned to
England; and, being agreeable, accomplished,
and strikingly handsome, was kindly received
by some of his relations and their friends.
J^
f;^k^j
•{V
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
19
During one of the visits that he paid at the
house of a neighbour in the country, he fell
desperately in love with Lucy Shirley, the
daughter of the richest squire in the country,
a determined Whig, and one who hated a Jaco-
bite worse than a Frenchman. As George
Brandon's passion was returned with equal ar-
dour, and the object of it was young and in-
experienced as himself, all the obstacles op-
posed to their union only served to add fuel
to the flame; and, after repeated but vain en-
deavours on the part of Lucy Shirley to re-
concile her father, or her only brother, to the
match, she eloped with her young lover; and,
by a rapid escape into Scotland, where they
were immediately married, they rendered abor-
tive all attempt at pursuit.
It was not long before the young couple be-
gan to feel some of the painful consequences of
their imprudence. The old squire was not to
be appeased; he would neither see his daugh-
ter, nor would he open one of the many letters
which she wrote to entreat his forgiveness:
but, although incensed, he was a proud man
20
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
and scrupulously just in all his deulings : Lucy
had been left 10,000Z. by her grand-mother, but
it was not due to her until she attained her
twenty-first year, or married vjith her fathei^s
consent. The squire waved both these condi-
tions, he knew that his daughter had fallen
from a brilliant sphere to one comparatively
humble. Even in the midst of his wrath he
did not wish her to starve, and accordingly in-
structed his lawyer to write to Mrs. Brandon,
and to inform her that he had orders to pay her
500/. a-year, until she thought fit to demand the
payment of the principal.
George and his wife returned, after ?. 'jrief
absence, to England, and made frequent efforts
to overcome by entreaty and submission the
old squire's obduracy; but it \.as> all in vain;
neither were they more successful in propitia-
ting the young squire, an eccentric youth, who
lived among dogs and horses, and who had im-
bibed from his father a hereditary taste for
old port, and an antipathy to Jacobites. His
reply to a letter which George wrote, entreat-
ing his good offices in effecting a reconciliation
• (
I'm
ybin.*.
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
21
between Lucy and her father, will serve better
than an elaborate description to illustrate his
character ; it ran as follows : —
Sir,
When my sister married a Jacobite, against
father's consent, she carried her eggs to a fool's
market, and she must make the best of her
own bargain. Father isn't such a flat as to be
gulled with your fine words now; and tho* they
say I'm not over'forw'rd in my schoolin', you
must put some better bait on your trap before
ytiu catch
Marmaduke Shirley, Jun.
It may well be imagined, that after the re-
ceipt of this cpistlo George Brandon did not
seek to renew his intercourse with Lucy's bro-
ther ; but as she had now presented him with a
little boy, he began to medii;ate seriously on
the means which he should adopt to better his
fortunes.
One of his most intimate and esteemed
friends, Digby Ethelston, being like himself,
22
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
*'
a portionless member of an ancient family, had
gone out early in life to America, and had, by
dint of persevering industry, gained a respect-
able competence; while in the southern colo-
nies he had married the daughter of an old
French planter, who had left the marquisate
to which he was entitled in his own country,
in order to live in peace and quiet among the
sugar canes and cotton fields of Louisiana ;
Ethelston had received with his wife a consider-
able accession of fortune, and they were on the
eve of returning across the Atlantic, her hus-
band having settled all the affairs which had
brought him to England.
His representations of the New World made
a strong impression on the sanguine mind of
George Brandon, and he proposed to his wife
to emigrate ' 1th their little one to America;
poor Lucy, cut off from her own family and
devoted to her husband, made no diflficultv
whatever, and it was soon settled that they
should accompany the Ethelstons.
George now called upon Mr. Shirley's so-
licitor, a dry, matter-of-fact, parchment man,
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 23
to inform him of their intention, and of their
wish that the principal of Lucy's fortune might
be paid up. The lawyer took down a dusty
box of black tin, whereon was engraved " Mar-
maduke Shirley, Esq., Shirley Hall, No. 7, "
and after carefully perusing a paper of instruc-
tions, he said, " Mrs. Brandon's legacy shall be
paid up, sir, on the 1st of July to any party
whom she may empower to receive it on her
behalf, and to give a legal discharge for the
same."
" And pray, sir," said George, hesitating, " as
we are going across the Atlantic, perhaps never
to return, do you not think Mr. Shirley would
see his daughter once before she sails, to give
her his blessing?''
Again the man of parchment turned his
sharp nose towards the paper, and having
scanned its contents, he said, " I find nothing,
sir, in these instructions on that point; Good
morning, Mr. Brandon — James, shew in Sir
John Waltham."
George walked home dispirited, and the
punctual solicitor failed not to inform the
«
h*
24
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
#
squire immediately of the young couple's in-
tended emigration, and the demand for the
paying up of the sum due to Lucy. In spite
of his long cherished prejudices against George
Brandon's Jacobite family, and his anger at the
elopement, he was somewhat softened by time,
by what he heard of the blameless life led by
the young man, and by the respectful conduct
that the latter had evinced towards his wife's
family; for it had happened on one occasion
that some of his young companions had thought
fit to speak of the obstinacy and stinginess of
the old squire; this language George had in-
stantly and indignantly checked, saying, " My
conduct in marrying his daughter against his
consent, yi^as unjustifiable; though he has not
forgiven her, he has behaved justly and honour-
ably; any word spoken disrespectfully of my
wife's father, I shall consider a personal insult
to myself."
This had accidentally reached the ears of the
old squire, and, though still too proud and too
obstinate to agree to any reconciliation, he said
to the solicitor : *' Perkins, 1 will not be recon-
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 25
ciled to these scapegraces, I will have no inter-
course with them, but I will see Lucy before
she goes; she must not see me;— arrange it as
you please; desire her to come to your house to
sign the discharge for^he .£'10,000, in person;
you can put me in a cupboard, in the next
room, where you will, a glass door will do;
— you understand ?""
" Yes, sir. When ?"
" Oh, the sooner the better ; whenever the
papers are ready."
" It shall be done, sir." And thus the inter-
view closed.
Meantime George made one final effort in a
letter which he addressed to the Squire, couched
in terms at once manly and respectful ; owning
the errors that he had committed, but hoping
that forgiveness might precede this long, this
last separation.
This letter was returned to him unopjned,
and, in order to conceal from Lu.cy the grief and
mortification of his high and wounded spirit, he
was obliged to absent himself from home for
VOL. I. «
B.*qF(
26
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
1!
'A
many hours, and when he did return, it was
with a clouded brow.
Certainly the fate of this young couple,
though not altogether prosperous, was in one
particular a remarkable exception to the usual
results of a runaway match ; they were affection-
ately and entirely devoted to each other; and
Lucy, though she had been once, and only
once, a disobedient daughter, was the most
loving and obedient of wives.
The day fixed for her signature arrived. Mr.
Perkins had made all his arrangements agree-
ably to his wealthy client's instructions; and
when, accompanied by her husband, she enter-
ed the solicitor's study, she was little conscious
that her father was separated from her only by
a frail door, which being left ajar, he could see
her, and hear every word that she spoke.
Mr. Perkins, placing the draft of the dis-
charge into George Brandon's hand, together
with the instrument whereby his wife was put
in possession of the dP 10,000, said to him,
" Would it not be better, sir, to send for your
solicitor to inspect these papers on behalf of
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
27
yourself and Mrs. Brandon, before she signs
the discharge?"
« Allow me to inquire, sir," replied George,
" whether Mr. Shirley has perused these pa-
pers, and has placed them here for his daugh-
ter's signature ?"
"Assuredly, he has, sir," said the lawyer,
"and I have too, on his behalf; you do not
imagine, sir, that my client would pay the capi-
tal sum without being certain that the dis-
charge was regular and sufficient !"
"Then I am satisfied, sir," said George,
with something of disdain expressed on his
fine countenance. « Mr. Shirley is a man of
honour, and a father; whatever he has sent for
his daughter's signature will secure her in-
terests as efTectually as if a dozen solicitors
had inspected it.''
At the conclusion of this speech, a sort of
indistinct hem proceeded from the ensconced
Squire, to cover which Mr. Perkins said, « But,
sir, it is not usual to sign papers of this con-
sequence without examining them."
" Lucy, my dear," said George, turning with
c 2
'28
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
^;ji
a smile of affectionate confidence to his wife;
" to oblige Mr. Perkins, I will read through
these two papers attentively; sit down for a
minute, as they are somewhat long;" so say-
ing, he applied himself at once to his task.
Meantime, Lucy, painfully agitated and ex-
cited, made several attempts to address Mr.
Perkins; but her voice failed her, as soon as
she turned her eyes upon that gentleman's rigid
countenance; at length, however, by a despe-
rate effort, she succeeded in asking, tremu-
lously, " Mr. Perkins, have you seen my father
lately?"
*' Yes, ma'am," said the lawyer, nibbing his
pen.
" Oh ! tell me how he is ! — Has the gout left
him? — Can he ride to the farm as he used ?"
" He is well, madam, very well, I believe."
" Shall you see him soon again, sir?"
"Yes, madam, I must show him these pa-
pers when signed."
" Oh I then, tell him, that his daughter, who
never disobeyed him but once, has wept bitterly
for her fault; that she will probably never see
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 29
him again, in this world ; that she blesses him
in her daily prayers. Oh ! tell him, I charge
you as you are a man, tell him, that .1 could
cross the ocean happy ; that I could bear years
of sickness, of privation, happy; that I could
die happy, if I had but my dear, dear fath -'s
blessing." As she said this, the young wife
had unconsciously fallen upon one knee before
the man of law, and her tearful eyes were bent
upon his countenance in earnest supplication.
Again an indistinct noise, as of a suppressed
groan or sob, was heard from behind the door,
and the solicitor wiping his spectacles and
turning away his face to conceal an emotion
of which he felt rather ashamed, said : « I will
tell him all you desire, madam ; and if I re-
ceive his instructions to make any communi-
cation in reply, I will make it faithfully, and
without loss of time."
" Thank you, thank you a thousand times,"
said Lucy; and resuming her seat, she endea-
voured to recover her composure.
George had by this time run his eye over
the papers, and although he had overheard his
v \
80
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
wife's appeal to the solicitor, he would not in-
terrupt her, nor throw any obstacle in the way
of an object which he knew she had so much
at heart. "I am perfectly satisfied, sir,'' said
he; "you have nothing to do but to provide the
witnesses, and Mrs. Brandon will affix her sig-
nature."
Two clerks of Mr. Perkins* were accordingly
summoned, and the discharge having been signed
in their presence, they retired. Mr. Perkins
now drew another paper from the leaves of a
book on his table, saying : " Mr. Brandon, the.
discharge being now signed and attested, I have
further instructions from Mr. Shirley to inform
you, that although he cannot alter his deter-
mination of refusing to see his daughter, or
holding any intercourse with yourself, he is
desirous that you should not in America find
yourself in straitened circumstances; and has
accordingly authorised me to place in your
hands this draft upon his banker for J*5000."
" Mr. Perkins," said George, in a tone of
mingled sadness and pride; "in the payment
of the ^10,000, my wife's fortune, Mr. Shir-
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
ai
ley, though acting honourably, has only done
justice, and has dealt as he would have dealt
with strangers ; had he thought proper to listen
to my wife's, or to my own repeated entreaties
for forgiveness and reconciliation, I would grate-
fully have received from him, as from a father,
any favour that he wished to confer on us ; but,
sir, as he refuses to see me under his roof, or
even to give his affectionate and repentant child
a parting blessing, I would rather work for my
daily bread than receive at his hands the dona-
tion of a guinea."
As he said this, he tore the draft and scat-
tered its shreds on the table before the asto-
nished lawyer. Poor Lucy was still in tears,
yet one look assured her husband that she felt
with him. He added in a gentler tone, « Mr.
Perkins accept my acknowledgments for your
courtesy;" and offering his army to Lucy,
turned to leave the room.
II
*
%
32
THE PRAIRIE-BTRD.
CHAPTER III.
CONTAINING SOME FURTHER ACCOUNT OF COLONEL AND MRS.
BRANDON, AND OF THE EDUCATION OF THEIR SON REOI-
NALD.
While the scene described in the last chap-
ter was passing in the lawyer's study, stormy
and severe was the struggle going on in the
breast of the listening father ; more than once
he had been on the point of rushing into the
room to fold his child in his arms; but that
obstina<-e pride, which causes in life so many
bitter hours of regret, provented him, and
checked the natural impulse of affection: still,
as she turned with her husband to leave the
room, he unconsciously opened the door, on
the lock of which his hand rested, as he en-
deavoured to get one last look at a face which
he had so long loved and caressed. The door
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
33
being thus partially opened, a very diminutive
and favourite spaniel, that accompanied him
wherever he went, escaped through the aper-
ture, and, recognizing Lucy, barked and jump-
ed upon her in an ecstacy of delight.
" Heavens !" cried she, « it is— it must be
Fan !" At another time she would have fondly
caressed it, but one only thought now occupied
her; trembling on her husband's arm, she
whispered, " George, papa must be here." At
that moment her eye caught the partially-open-
ed door, which the agitated Squire still held,
and, breaking from her husband, she flew as
if by instinct into the adjacent room, and fell
at her father's feet.
Poor Mr. Perkins was now grievously dis-
concerted, and calling out, « This way, madam,
this way ; that is not the right door/' was about
to follow, when George Brandon, laying his
hand upon the lawyer's arm, said impressively,
" Stay, sir ; that room is sacred !" and led
him back );o his chair. His quick mind had
seized in a moment the correctness of Lucy's
conjecture, and his good feeling taught him
f6
< r
84 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
that no third person, not even he, should in-
trude upon the father and the child.
The old Squire could not make a long re-
sistance when the gush of his once-loved Lucy's
tears trickled upon his hand, and while her
half-choked voice sobbed for his pardon and
his blessing ; it was in vain that he summoned
all his pride, all his strength, all his anger;
Nature would assert her rights ; and in another
minute his child'^s head was on his bosom, and
he whispered over her, ** I forgive you, Lucy ;
may God bless you, as I do !"
For some time after this was the interview
prolonged, and Lucy seemed to be pleading
for some boon which she could not obtain;
neverth'^lfcss* her tears, her old familiar child-
ish caresses, had regained something of their
former dominion over the choleric, but warm-
hearted Squire ; and in a voice of joy that thrill-
ed even through the quiet man of law, she cried,
" George ! George, come in !" he leaped from
his seat, and in a moment was at the feet of
her father. There, as he knelt by Lucy's
side, the old Squire put one hand upon the
I
n-
r's
er
td
fd
• fl
sr
d
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 35
head of each, saying, « My children, all that
you have ever done to offend me is forgotten ;
continue to love and to cherish each other,
and may God prosper you w th every btessing !"
George Brandon's heart was full; he could
not speak, but straining his wife affectionately
to his bosom, and kissing her fathers hand,
he withdrew into a corner of the room, and
for some minutes remained oppressed by emo-
tions too strong to find relief in expressions.
We need not detail at length the conse-
quences of this h ppy and unexpected recon-
ciliation. The check was re-written, was
doubled, and was accepted. George still per-
severed in his wish to accompany his friend
to Virginia; where, Ethelston assured him
that, with his ^20,000. prudently managed,
he might easily acquire a sufficient fortune for
himself and his family.
How mighty is the power of circumstance :
and upon what small pivots does Providence
sometimes allow the wheels of but in fortune
to be turned ! Here, in the instance just re-
latfcJ, the blessing or unappeased wrath of a
m
a
S6
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
i< I
lii;
■ i
father, the joy or despair of a daughter, the
peace or discord of a family, all, all were de-
pendent upon the bark and caress of a spaniel !
For that stern old man had made his deter-
mination, and would have adhered to it, if
Lucy had not thus been made aware of his
presence, and by her grief aiding the voice of
Nature, overthrown all the defences of his
pride.
It happened that the young Squire was at
this time in Paris, his father having sent him
thither to see the world and learn to fence;
a letter was, however, written by Lucy, an-
nouncing to him the happy reconciliation, and
entrf^ating him to participate in their common
happiness.
The arrangements for the voyage were soon
completed ; the cabin of a large vessel being
engaged to convey the whole party to Norfolk
in Virginia. The old Squire offered no op-
position, considering that George Brandon was
too old to begin a profession in England, and
that he might employ his time and abilities
advantageously in the New World.
I
fit
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
37
We may pass over many of the ensuing years,
the events of which have Httle influence on our
narrative, merely informing the reader that the
investment of Brandon's money, made by the
advice of Ethelston, was prosperous in the ex-
treme. In the course of a year or two, Mrs.
Brandon presented her lord with a little girl,
who was named after herself. In the following
year, Mrs. Ethelston had also a daughter : the
third confinement was not so fortunate, and she
died in childbed, leaving to Ethelston, Ed-
ward, then about nine, and little Evelyn a
twelvemonth old.
It was on this sad occasion that he persuaded
his sister to come out from England to reside
with him, and take care of his motherless
children : a task that she undertook and ful-
filhd with the love and devotion of the most
if)F' ctionate mother.
L. course of time the war broke out which
ended in the independence of the Colonies.
During its commencement, Brandon and Ethel-
ston both remained firm to the Crown ; but as
it advanced, they became gradually convinced
"m
I
IM !
38
THE IRAIRIE-BIRD.
of the impolicy and injustice of the claims
urged by England ; Brandon having sought an
interview with Washington, the arguments, and
the character, of that great man decided him ;
he joined the Independent party, obtained a
command, and distinguished himself so much
as to ob^^^sin the esteem and regard of his com-
mander, ^oon as peace was established
he had, for reasons before stated, determined
to change his residence, and persuaded Ethel-
ston to accompany him with his family.
After the dreadful domestic calamity men-
tioned in the first chapter, and the untimely
death of Ethelston, Colonel Brandon sent Ed-
ward, the son of his deceased friend, to a dis-
tant relative in Hamburgh, desiring that every
care might be given to give him a complete
mercantile and liberal education, including two
years' study at a German university.
Meanwhile the old Squire Brandon, was
dead; but his son and successor had written,
after his own strange fashion, a letter to his
sister, begging her to send over her boy to
England, and he would " make a man of him."
't
««BI
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 80
After duly weighing this proposal, Colonel and
Mrs Brandon determined to avail themselves of
it ; and Reginald was accordingly sent over to
his uncle, who had promised to enter him im-
mediately at Oxford.
When Reginald arrived, Marmaduke Shirley
turned him round half a dozen times, felt his
arms, punched his ribs, looked at his ruddy
cheeks and brown hair, that had never known a
barber, and exclaimed to a brother sportsman
who was standing by, « D— d if he ain't one of
the right sort ! eh, Harry?" But if the uncle
was pleased with the lad*s appearance, much
more delighted was he with his accomplish-
ments : for he could walk down any keeper on
the estate, he sat on a horse like a young
centaur, and his accuracy with a rifle perfectly
confounded the Squire. « If this isn^t a chip
of the old block, my name isn^t Marmaduke
Shirley," said he ; and for a moment a shade
crossed his usually careless brow, as he remem-
bered that he had wooed, and married, and
been left a childless widower.
But although at Shirley Hall Reginald fol-
40
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
i
If
Iriii
i i
III.
t
lowed the sports of the field with the ardour
natural to his age and character, he rather an-
noyed the Squire by his obstinate and perse-
vering attention to his studies at College; he
remembered that walking and shooting were
accomplishments which he might have acquired
and perfected in the woods of Virginia ; but he
felt it due to his parents, and to the confidence
which they had reposed in his discretion, to
carry back with him some more useful know-
ledge and learning.
With this dutiful motive, he commenced his
studies ; and as he advanced in them, his natu-
rally quick intellect seized on and appreciated
the beauties presented to it; authors, in whose
writings he had imagined and expected little
else but difficulties, soon became easy and fami-
liar ; and what he had imposed upon himself
iiu.n a high principle as a task, proved, ere
long, a source of abundant pleasure.
In the vacations he visited his good-hu-
moured uncle, who never failed to rally him as
a *' Latin-monger" and a book- worm ; but Re-
ginald bore the jokes with temper not less
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
41
merry than his uncle's ; and whenever, after a
- hard run, he had « pounded" the Squire or the
huntsman, he never failed to retaliate by an-
swering the compliments paid him on his riding
with some such jest as « Pretty well for a book-
worm, uncle." It soon became evident to all
the tenants, servants, and indeed to the whole
neighbourhood, that Reginald exercised a de-
spotic influence over the Squire, who respected
internally those literary attainments in his ne-
phew which he affected to ridicule.
When Reginald had taken his degree, which
. he did with high honour and credit, he felt an
ardent desire to visit his friend and school-
fellow, Edward Ethelston, in Germany; he was
also anxious to see something of the Continent,
and to study the foreign languages ; this wish
he expressed without circumlocution to the
Squire, who received the communication with
. undisguised disapprobation : « What the devil
can the boy want to go abroad for? not satisfied
with wasting two or three years poking over
Greek, Latin, Mathematics, and other infernal
* atics* and * ologies,' now you must go across
42
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
I
the Channel, to eat sour-kraut, soup-maigre,
and frogs! I won't hear of it, sir;" and in
order to keep his wrath warm, the Squire
poked the fire violently.
In spite of this determination Reginald, as
usual, carried his point, and in a few weeks was
on board a packet bound for Hamburgh, his
purse being well filled by the Squire, who told
him to see all that could be seen, and " not to
let any of those Mounseers top him at any-
thing." Reginald was also provided with letters
of credit to a much larger amount than he re-
quired; but the first hint which he gave of a
wish to decline a portion of the Squire's gene-
rosity raised such a storm, that our hero was
fain to submit. «
^,v
V
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
48
CHAPTER IV.
CONTAINING SUNDRY ADVENTURES OF REGINALD BRANDON
AND HIS FRIEND ETHELSTON ON THE CONTINENT ; ALSO
SOME FURTHER PROCEEDINGS AT SQUIRE SHIRLEy's ; AND
THE RETURN OF REGINALD BRANDON TO HIS HOME. IN
THIS CHAPTER THE SPORTING READER WILL FIND AN
EXAMPLE OF AN UNMADE RIDER ON A MADE HUNTER.
Reginald having joined his attached and
faithful friend Ethelston at Hamburgh, the
the young men agreed to travel together ; and
the intimacy of their early boyhood ripened into
a mature friendship, based upon mutual es-
teem; in personal advantages, Reginald was
greatly the superior; for although unusually
tall and strongly built, such was the perfect
symmetry of his proportions, that his height,
and the great muscular strength of his chest
and limbs, were carried oflF by the grace with
44
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
I' 1
which he moved, and by the air of high-breed-
ing by which he was distinguished ; his counte-
nance was noble and open in expression ; and
though there was a fire in his dark eye which
betokened passions easily aroused, still there
was a frankness on the brow, and a smile
around the mouth that told of a nature at once
kindly, fearless, and without suspicion.
Ethelston, who was, be it remembered, three
years older than his friend, was of middle
stature, b'Jt active, and well proportioned ; his
hair and eyebrows were of the jettest black,
and his countenance thoughtful and grave; but
there was about the full and firm lip an ex-
pression of determination not to be mistaken ;
habits of study and reflection had already writ-
ten their trace upon his high and intellectual
brow ; so that one who saw him for the first
time might imagine him only a severe student;
but ere he had seen him an hour in society, he
would pronounce him a man of practical and
commanding character. The shade of melan-
choly, which was almost habitual on his coun-
tenance, dated from the d( fuh of his father.
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
46
brought prematurely by sorrow to his grave,
and from the loss of his little sister, to whom
he had been tenderly attached. The two
friends loved each other with the affection of
brothers ; and, after the separation of the last
few years, each found in the other newly deve-
loped qualities to esteem.
The state of Europe during the autumn of
1795 not being favourable for distant excur-
sions, Ethelston contented himself with show-
ing his friend all objects worthy of his attention
in the north of Germany, and at the same time
assisted him in attaining its rich, though diffi-
cult language ; by associating much, during the
winter, with the students from the Universities,
Reginald caught some of their enthusiasm re-
specting the defence of their country from the
arms of the French republic ; he learnt that a
large number of Ethelston's acquaintances at
Hamburgh had resolved in the spring to join
a corps of volunteers from the Hanseatic towns,
destined to fight under the banner of the Arch-
duke Charles; to their own surprise, our two
friends were carried away by the stream, and
I '
I
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I :
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46
THE PBAIRIE-BIRD.
found themselves enrolled in a small, but active
and gallant band of sharp-shooters, ordered to
act on the flank of a large body of Austrian
infantry. More than once the impetuous cou-
rage of Reginald had nearly cost him his life ;
and in the action at Amberg, where the Arch-
duke defeated General Bernadotte, he received
two wounds, such as would have disabled a man
of less hardy constitution. It was in vain that
Ethelston, whose bravery was tempered by un-
ruffled coolness, urged his friend to expose him-
self less wantonly ; Reginald always promised it,
but in the excitement of the action always for-
got the promise.
After he had recovered from his wounds, his
commanding officer, who had noticed his fear-
less daring, a quality so valuable in the skir-
mishing duty, to which his corps were appoint-
ed, sent for him, and offered to promote him.
" Sir," said Reginald modestly, " I thank you
heartily, but I must decline the honour you pro-
pose to me. I am too inexperienced to lead
others; my friend and comrade, Ethelston, is
three years my senior; in action he is always by
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
47
my side, sometimes before me; he has more skill
or riper judgment ; any promotion that should
prefer me before him, would be most painful to
me." He bowed and withdrew. On the follow-
ing day, the same officer, who had mentioned
Reginald's conduct to the Archduke, presented
both the friends, from him, with a gold medal
of the Emperor ; a distinction the more gratify-
ing to Reginald, from his knowledge that he had
been secretly the means of bringing his friend's
merit into the notice of his commander.
They served through the remainder of that
campaign, when the arms of the contending
parties met with alternate success ; towards its
close, the Archduke having skilfully effected
his object of uniting his forces to the corps
d'armee under General Wartenleben, compelled
the French to evacuate Franconia, and to re-
tire towards Switzerland.
This retreat was conducted with much skill
by General Moreau; several times did the
French rear-guard make an obstinate stand
against the pursuers, among whom Reginald
and his comrades were always the foremost.
F"
48
t, I
M
! !
U
; I
I
!!
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
On one occasion, the French army occupied
a position so strong that they were not driven
from it without heavy k.is on both sides ? and
even after the force of numbers had compelled
the main body to retire, there remained a gal-
lant band who seemed resolved to 'conquer or
die upon the field; in vain did t'le Austrian
leaders, in admiration of their devoted valour,
call to them to surrender; without yielding an
inch of ground, they fell fighting where they
stood. Reginald made the most desperate ef-
forts to save their young commander, whose
chivalrous appearance and brilliantly decorated
uniform made him remarkable from a great
distance; several times did he strike aside a
barrel pointed at the French officer; but it was
too late; and when at length, covered with dust,
and sweat, and blood, he reached the spot, he
found the young hero whom he had striven to
save, stretched on the ground by several mortal
wounds in his breast; he saw, however, Regi-
nald's kind intention, smiled gratefully upon
him, waved his sword over his head, and died.
The excitement of the battle was over, and
n
W:
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
49
to
rtal
ind
leaning on his sword, Reginala still bent over
the noble form and marble features of the
young warrior at his feet, and he siphed deep-
ly when he thought how suddenly had this
flower of manly beauty been cut down. *' Per-
haps," said he, half aloud, « some now childless
mother yet waits for this last prop of her age
and name; or some betrothed lingers at her
window, and wonders why he so long delays.""
Ethelston was at his side, his eyes also bent
sadly upon the same object; the young friends
interchanged a warm and silent grasp of the
hand, each feeling that he read the heart of
the other ! At this moment, a groan escaped
from a wounded man, who was half buried
under the bleeding bodies of his comrades;
with some difficulty Reginald dragged him out
from below them, and the poor fellow thanked
him for his humanity; he had only received a
slight wound on the head from a spent ball,
which had stunned him for the time; but he
soon recovered from its effects, and looking
around; he saw the body of the young com-
mander stretched on the plain.
VOL. I. D
'r
If
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50
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
" Ahf mon pauvre General!*'' he exclaimed:
and on further inquiry, Reginald learnt that
it was indeed the gallant, the admired, the
beloved General Margeau, whose brilliant ca-
reer was thus untimely closed.
" I will go," whispered Ethelston, *' and
bear this tidings to the Archduke ; meantime,
Reginald, guard the honoured remains from
the camp-spoiler and the plunderer." So say-
ing he withdrew; and Reginald, stooping over
the prostrate form before him, stretched it de-
cently, closed the eyes, and throwing a mantle
over the splendid uniform, sat down to indulge
in the serious meditations inspired by the
scene.
He was soon aroused from them by the poor
fellow whom he had dragged forth, who said
to him, " Sir, I yield myself your prisoner."
" And who are you, my friend ? "
" I was courier, valet, and cook to M. de
Vareuil, aide-de-camp to the General Mar-
9eau ; both lie dead together before you."
" And what is your name, my good fellow?"
" Gustave Adolphe Montmorer.ci Perrot."
THE PBAIRIE-BIRD. - 51
•* A fair string of nanes, indeed," said Re-
ginald, smiling. « But pray, Monsieur Perrot,
how came you here ? are you a soldier as well
as a courier ?"
« Monsieur does me too much honour," said
the other, shrugging his shoulders. « I only
came from the baggage-train with a message
to my master, and your avant-garde peppered
us so hotly that I could not get back again.
I am not fond of fighting; but somehow, when
I saw poor Monsieur de Vareuil in so sad a
plight, I did not wish to leave him."
Reginald looked at the speaker, and thought
he had never seen in one face such a com-
pound of slyness and honesty, dro^^ ry and
sadness. He did not, however, reply, and re-
lapsed into his meditation. Before five minutes
had passed. Monsieur Perrot, as if struck by
a sudden idea, fell on his knees before Regi-
nald, and said,
" Monsieur has saved my life— will he grant
me yet one favour ? '•'
« If within my power," said Reginald, good-
humouredly.
, d2
I (•-
im
* i
'■f
rr
4
i «
52
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
. i
■:|
V
h
■ ! ,i I
** Will Monsieur take me into his service?
I have travelled over all Europe ; I have lived
long in Paris, London, Vienna ; I may be of
use to Monsieur ; but I have no home now."
** Nay, but Monsieur Perrot, I want no
servant ; I am only a volunteer with the army."
" I see what Monsieur is," said Perrot,
archly, " in spite of the dust and blood with
which he is disfigured. I will ask no salary;
I will share your black bread, if you are poor,
and will live in your pantry if you are rich :
I only want to serve you.*'
Monsieur Perrot's importunity overruled all
the objections that Reginald could raise; and
he at last consented to the arrangement, pro-
vided the former, after due reflection, should
adhere to his wish.
Ethelston meanwhile returned with the party
sent by the Archduke to pay the last token
of respect to the remains <>f the youthful v
General. They were interred with all the
military honours due to an oflBcer whose re-
putation was, considering his years, second to
none in France, save that of Napoleon him-
self.
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
53
After the ceremony, Monsieur Perrot, now
on parole not to bear arms against Austria,
obtained leave to return to the French camp
for a week, in order to " arrange his affairs,"
at the expiration of which he promised to re-
join his new master. Ethelston blamed Re-
ginald for his thoughtlessness in engaging this
untried attendant. The latter, however, laugh-
ed at his friend, and said, " Though he is such
a droll-looking creature, I think there is good
in him; at all events, rest assured I will not
trust him far without trial."
A few weeks after these events. General
Moreau having eflFected his retreat into Swit-
zerland, an armistice was concluded on the
Rhine between the contending armies; and
Reginald could no longer resist the imperative
commands of his Uncle to return to Shirley
HalL Monsieur Gustavo Adolphe Mont-
morenci Perrot had joined his new master,
with a valise admirably stocked, and wearing
a peruke of a most fashionable cut Ethelston
shrewdly suspected that these had formed part
of poor Monsieur de Vareuil's wardrobe, and
i!"
r-
l\
T
u
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
'; I!
!
i
/
his dislike of Reginald's foppish valet was not
thereby diminished.
On the route to Hamburgh the friends
passed through many places where the luxu-
ries, and even the necessaries, of life had been
rendered scarce by the late campaign. Here,
Perrot was in his element ; fatigue seemed to
be unknown to him ; he was always ready,
active^ useful as a courier, and unequalled as
a cook and a caterer; so that Ethelston was
compelled to confess that if he only proved
honest, Reginald had indeed found a treasure.
At Hamburgh the two friends took an af-
fectionate farewell, promising to meet each
other in the course of the following year on
the banks of the Ohio. Reginald returned
to his Uncle, who stormed dreadfully when he
learnt that he had brought with him a French
valet, and remained implacable in spite of the
circumstances under which he had been en-
gaged; until one morning, when a footman
threw down the tray on which he was carrying
up the Squire's breakfast of beeksteaks and
stewed kidneys, half an hour before " the
00
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
meet" at his best cover-side. What could
now be done ? The cook was sulky, and sent
word that there were no more steaks nor kid-
neys to be had. The Squire was wrath and
hungry. Reginald laughed, and said, " Uncle,
send for Perrot."
« Perrot be d— d !" cried the Squire. '< Does
the boy think I want some pomatum ? What
else could that coxcomb give me ? "
"May I try him. Uncled said Reginald,
still laughing.
" You may try him : but if he plays any of
his jackanapes pranks, I '11 tan his hide for him,
I promise you !"
Reginald having rung for Perrot, pointed
to the remains of the good things which a ser-
vant was still gathering up, and said to him,
*' Send up breakfast for Mr. Shirley and my-
self in one quarter of an hour from this mi-
nute : you are permitted to use what you find
in the larder; but be punctual."
Perrot bowed, and, without speaking, dis-
appeared.
" The devil take the fellow ! he has some
v.
i
r
56
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
fi
I
i,
I:
V
i! I
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sense," said the angry Squire ; " he can receive
an order without talking; one of my hulking
knaves would have stood there five minutes
out of the fifteen, saying, * Yes, sir ; I '11 see
what can be done : ' or, * I *11 ask Mr. Alltripe,*'
or some other infernal stuff. Come, Reginald,
look at your watch. Let us stroll to the
stable ; we '11 be back to a minute ; and if that
fellow plays any of his French tricks upon me,
1 11 give it him."" So saying, the jolly Squire
cut the head off one of his gardener's favourite
plants with his hunting whip, and led the way
to the stable.
We may now return to Monsieur Perrot,
and see how he set about the discharge of his
sudden commission; but it may be necessary,
at the same time, to explain one or two parti-
culars not known to his master, or to the
Squire. Monsieur Perrot was very gallant,
and his tender heart had been smitten by the
charms of Mary, the still-room maid; it so
happened on this very morning that he had
prepared slily, as a surprise, a little " dtjeuner
a la fourchettey* with which he intended to
I
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
57
soften Mary's obduracy. We will not inquire
how he had obtained the mushroom, the lemon,
and the sundry other good things with which
he was busily engaged in dressing a plump
hen-pheasant, when he received the above un-
expected summons. Monsieur Perrot's vanity
was greater than either his gourmandise or his
love; and, without hesitation, he determined to
•
sacrifice to it the hen-pheasant: his first step
was to run to the still-room ; and having stolen
a kiss from Mary, and received a box on the
ear as a reward, he gave her two or three very
brief but important hints for the coffee, which
was to be made immediately; he then turned
his attention to the hen-pheasant, sliced some
bacon, cut up a ham, took possession of a
whole basket of eggs, and flev/ about the
kitchen with such surprising activity, and call-
ing for so many things at once, that Mr. All-
tripe left his dominion, and retired to his own
room in high dudgeon.
Meanwhile the Squire, having sauntered
through the stables with Reginald, and enlight-
ened him with various comments upon the
r
il:-
■i
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V
58
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
points and qualities of his favourite hunters,
took out his watch, and exclaimed, " the time
is up, my boy ; let us go in and see what your
precious Mounseer has got for us." As they
entered the library, Monsieur opened the oppo-
site door, and announced breakfast as quietly
and composedly as if no unusual demand had
been made upon his talents. The Squire led
the way into the breakfast-room, and was
scarcely more surprised than was Reginald
himself at the viands that regaled his eye on
the table. In addition to the brown and white
loaves, the rolls, and other varieties of bread,
there smoked on one dish the delicate salmi
of pheasant, on another the Squire's favourite
dish of bacon, with poached eggs, and on a
third, a most tempting Omelette au Jambon.'"*
Marmaduke Shirley opened his eyes and
mouth wide with astonishment, as Monsieur
Perrot oifered him, one after another, these
delicacies, inquiring, with undisturbed gravity,
if " Monsieur desired any thing else ? as there
were other dishes ready below !"
" Other dishes ! why, man, here 's a breakfast
ii
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
B9
for a Court of aldermen," said the Squire ; and
having aseert ined that the things were as
agreeable to the taste as to the eye, and that
the coifee was more clear and high flavoured
than he had ever tasted before, he seized his
nephew's hand, saying " Reginald, my boy, I
give in ; your Master Perrot *s a trump, and no
man shall ever speak a word against him in
this house ! A rare fellow ! " here he took an-
other turn at the omelette ; " hang me if he
shan't have a day's sport;" and the Squire,
chuckling at the idea that had suddenly crossed
him, rang the bell violently : " Tell Repton,**
said he to the servant who entered, " to saddle
* Rattling Bess,* for Monsieur Perrot, and to
take her to the cover-side with the other
horses, at ten.'*
" She kicks a bit at starting," added he to
Reginald, " but she 's as safe as a mill ; and
though she rushes now and then at the fences,
she always gets through or over 'em."
Now it was poor Perrot's turn to be asto-
nished: to do him justice, he was neither a
bad horseman (as a courier) nor a coward ; but
i
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60
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
i
he had never been out with hounds, and the
enumeration of ' Rattling Bess' ' qualities did
not sound very attractive to his ear ; he began
gently to make excuses, and to decline the
proposed favour : he had not the " proper
dress;" — "he had much to do for Monsieur's
wardrobe at home;" but it was all to no pur-
pose, the Squire was determined; Repton*'s
coat and breeches would fit him, and go he
must.
With a rueful look at his master, Perrot
slunk off, cursing in his heart the salmi and the
omelette, which had procured him this unde-
sired favour; but he was ordered to lose no
time in preparing himself, so he first endea-
voured to get into Mr. Repton's clothes; that
proved impossible, as Mr. R. had been a racing
jockey, and was a feather-weight, with legs like
nut-crackers; having no time for deliberation,
^ Monsieur Perrot drew from his valise the cou-
rier suit which he had worn in France; and, to
the surprise of the whole party assembled at
the door, he appeared clad in a blue coat,
turned up with yellow, a cornered hat, and
[L
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
61
enormous boots, half a foot higher than his
knees: he was ordered to jump up behind the
Squire's carriage, and away they went to the
cover-side, amid the ill-suppressed titter of the
grooms and footmen, and the loud laughter of
the maids, whose malicious faces, not except-
ing that of Mary, were at the open windows
below.
When they reached the place appointed for
" the meet," and proceeded to mount the im-
patient horses awaiting them, Perrot eyed with
nn agreeable anticipation the long ears of Rat-
tling Bess laid back, and the restless wag of
her rat-tail, and he ventured one more attempt
at an escape. «« Really, sir," said he to the
Squire, « I never hunted, and I don't think I
can manage that animal; she looks very savage."
" Never mind her. Monsieur Perrot," said
the Squire, enjoying the poor valet's ill-dis-
sembled uneasiness. " She knows her business
here as well as any whipper-in or huntsman;
only let her go her own way, and you '11 never
be far from the brush."
" Very well," muttered Perrot ; " I hope she
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62
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
knows her business ; I know mine, and that is
to keep on her back, which I '11 do as well as
I can."
The eyes of the whole field wer^ upon this
strangely attired figure, and as soon as he got
into the saddle, " Rattling Bess " began to kick
and plunge violently; we have said that he
was not in some respects a bad horseman, and
although in this, her first prank, he lost one
of his stirrups, and his cornered hat fell off,
he coi^trived to keep both his seat and his
temper; while the hounds were drawing the
cover, one of the Squire's grooms restored the
hat, and gave him a string wherewith to fasten
it, an operation which he had scarcely con-
cluded, when the inspiring shouts of " Tally-
ho," " Gone away," " Forward," rang on his
ears. " Rattling Bess " seemed to understand
the sounds as well as ever alderman knew a
dinner-bell ; and away she went at full gallop,
convincing Monsieur Perrot, after an ineffec-
tual struggle of a few minutes on his part, that
both the speed and direction of her course were
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
63
matters over which he could not exercise the
smallest influence.
On they flew, over meadow and stile, ditch
and hedge, nothing seemed to check Rattling
Bess ; and while all the field were in astonished
admiration at the reckless riding of the strange
courier, that worthy was catching his breath
and muttering through his teeth " Diable d'ani-
malj.she have a mouth so hard, like one of Mr.
Alltripe's bif-steak — she know her business —
and a saere busine'3 it is — hol^ there ! mind
yourself ! " shouted he at the top of his voice,
to a horseman whose horse had fallen in brush-
ing through a thick hedge, and was struggling
to rise on the other side just as Rattling Bess
followed at tremendous speed over the same
place- lighting upon the hind-quarters of her
hapless predecessor, and scraping all the skin
off" his loins, she knocked the rider head over
heels into the ploughed field where his face
was buried a foot deep in dirty mould; by a
powerful effort she kept herself from falling,
and went gallantly over the field ; Perrot still
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64
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
muttering, as he tugged at the insensible
mouth, " She know her business, she kill dat
poor devil in the dirt, ^he kill herself and
me too."
A few minutes later, the hounds, having
overrun the scent, came to a check, and were
gathered by the huntsman into a green lane,
from whence they were about to "try back"
as Rattling Bess came up at unabated speed.
"Hold hard there, hold hard!'' shouted at
once the huntsman, the whips, and the few
sportsmen who were up with the hounds.
" Where the devil are you going, man ? "
" The fox is viewed back." " Halloo ! —you 're
riding into the middle of the pack." These
and similar cries scarcely had time to reach
the ears of Perrot, ere " Rattling Bess " sprang
over the hedge into the green lane, and coming
down among the unfortunate dogs, split the
head of one, broke the back of another, and
laming two or three more, carried her rider
over the opposite fence, who still panting for
breath, with his teeth set, muttered, " She know
her business, sacre animal."
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
65
After crossing two more fields, she cleared
a hedge so thick that he could not see what
was on the other side; but he heard a tre-
mendous crash, and was only conscious of being
hurled with violence to the ground; slowly re-
covering his senses, he saw Rattling Bess ly-
ing a few yards from him, bleeding profusely ;
and his own ears were saluted by the following
compassionate inquiry from the lips of a gar-
dener, who was standing over him, spade in
hand : " D — n your stupid outlandish head,
what be you a doin* here?"
The half-stunned courier, pointing to Ratt-
ling Bess, replied : " She know her busi-
ness."
The gardener, though enraged at the entire
demolition of his melon-bed, and of sundry
forced vegetables under glass, was not an ill-
tempered fellow in the main; and seeing that
the horse was half killed, and the rider, a
foreigner, much bruised, he assisted poor Per-
rot to rise, and having gathered from him, that
he was in the service of rich Squire Shirley,
rendered all the aid in his power to him and
hi
in.
IT".
^ ;-■-
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PJ
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66
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
to Rattling Bess, who had received some very
severe cuts from the glass.
When the events of the day came to be
talked over at the Hall, and it proved that it
was the Squire himself whom Perrot had so
unceremoniously ridden over, — that the hunts-
man would expect some twenty guineas for
the hounds, killed or maimed, — that the gar-
dener would probably present a similar, or a
larger account for a broken melon-bed and
shivered glass, — and that Rattling Bess was
lame for the season, the Squire did not encou-
rage much conversation on the day''s sport ; the
only remark that he was heard to make, being
" What a fool I was to put a frog -eating
Frenchman on an English hunter !"
Monsieur Perrot remained in his room for
three or four days, not caring that Mary should
see his visage while it was adorned with a black
eye and an inflamed nose.
Soon after this eventful chase, Reginald ob-
tained his Uncle's leave to obey his father's
wishes by visiting Paris for a few months ; his
stay there was shortened by a letter which he
m
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 67
received from his sister Lucy, announcing to
him his mother's illness, on the receipt of which
he wrote a few hurried lines of explanation to
his Uncle, and sailed by the first ship for Phila-
delphia, accompanied by the faithful Perrot,
and by a large rough dog of the breed of the
old Irish wolf-hound, given to him by the
Squire.
On arriving, he found his mother better than
he had expected ; and, as he kissed off the tears
of joy which Lucy shed on his return, he whis-
pered to her his belief that she had a little
exaggerated their mother's illness, in order to
recall him. After a short time, Ethelston also
returned, and joined the happy circle assembled
at Colonel Brandon's.
It was now the spring of 1797, between
which time and that mentioned as the date of
our opening chapter, a period of nearly two
years, nothing worthy of peculiar record oc-
curred; Reginald kept up a faithful corres-
pondence with his kind uncle, whose letters
showed how deeply he felt his nephew's ab-
sence. Whether Monsieur Perrot interchanged
' ' !
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68 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
letters with Mary, or consoled himself with the
damsels on the banks of the Ohio, the follow-
ing pages may show. His master made seve-
ral hunting excursions, on which he was always
accompanied by Baptiste, a sturdy backwoods-
man, who was more deeply attached to Regi-
nald than to any other being on earth; and
Ethelston had, as we have before explained,
undertaken the whole charge of his guardian's
vessels, with one of the largest of which he was,
at the commencement of our tale, absent in the
West India Islands.
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69
CHAPTER V.
AN ADVENTURE IN THE WOODS. — REGINALD BRANDON MAKES
THE ACQUAINTANCE OF AN INDIAN CHIEF.
It was a bright morning in April ; the robin
was beginning his early song, the wood-pecker
darted his beak against the rough bark, and
the squirrel hopped merrily from bough to
bough among the gigantic trees of the forest,
as two hunters followed a winding path which
led to a ferry across the Muskingum river.
One was a powerful, athletic young man,
with a countenance strikingly handsome, and
embrowned by exercise and exposure ; his dress
was a hunting shirt, and leggings of deer-skin ;
his curling brown locks escaped from under a
cap of wolf- skin; and his mocassins, firmly
secured round the ankle, were made from the
tough hide of a bear ; he carried in his hand a
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short rifle of heavy calibre, and an ornamented
couteau-de-chasse hung at his belt. His com-
panion, lower in stature, but broad, sinewy,
and weather-beaten, seemed to be some fifteen
or twenty years the elder ; his dress was of the
same material, but more soiled and worn; his
rifle was longer and heavier; and his whole
appearance that of a man to whom all incle-
mencies of season were indifferent, all the
dangers and hardships of a western hunter's
life familiar ; but the most remarkable part
of his equipment was an enormous axe, the
handle studded with nails, and the head firmly
riveted with iron hoops.
"Well Master Reginald," said the latter;
"we must hope to find old Michael and his
ferry-boat at the Passage des Rochers, for the
river is much swollen, and we might not easily
swim it with dry powder."
"What reason have you to doubt old Mi-
chael's being found at his post?" said Reginald;
" we have often crossed there, and have seldom
found him absent."
"True, master; but he has of late become
%
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
71
very lazy; and he prefers sitting by his fire,
and exchanging a bottle of fire-water with a
strolling Ingian for half a dozen good skins,
to tugging a great flat-bottomed boat across
the Muskingum during the March floods."
" Baptiste," said the young man, " it grieves
me to see the reckless avidity with wh'ch spirits
are sought by the Indians; and the violence,
outrage, and misery which is the general con-
sequence of their dram-drinking."
" Why you see, there is something very good
in a cup of West Ingy rum;" here Baptiste's
hard features were twisted into a grin irresis-
tibly comic, and he proceeded, " it warms the
stomach and the heart; and the savages, when
they once taste it, suck at a bottle by instinct,
as natural as a six- weeks cub at his dam :
I often wonder, Master Reginald, why you
spoil that fine eau de vie which little Perrot
puts into your hunting flask, by mixing with
it a quantity of water! In my last trip to
the mountains, where I was first guide and tur-
pret,* they gave me a taste now and then, and
* Anglice " Interpreter."
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I never found it do me harm; but the nature of
an Ingian is different, you know."
" Well, Baptiste," said Reginald, smiling at
his follower's defence of his favourite beverage ;
" I will say, that I never knew you to take
more thai: you could carry; but your head is
as strong as your back, and you sometimes
prove the strength of both,"
The conversation was suddenly interrupted
by the report of Reginald's rifl and a grey
squirrel fell from the top of a hickory, where
he was feasting in fancied security. Baptiste
took up the little animal, and having examined
it attentively, shook his head gravely, saying,
" Master Reginald, there is not a quicker eye,
nor a truer hand in the Territory, but — "
As he hesitated to finish the sentence, Regi-
nald added laughing, "but — but — I am an ob-
stinate fellow because I will not exchange my
favourite German rifle, with its heavy bullet,
for a long Virginia barrel, with a ball like a
pea; is it not so, Baptiste ?"
The guide's natural good-humour struggled
with prejudices which, on this subject, had been
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
73
)|
more than once wounded by his young com-
panion, as he replied, « Why, Master Reginald,
the deer, whose saddle is on mv shoulder, found
my pea hard enough to swallow, and look here,
at this poor little vermint whom you have just
killed, — there is a hole in his neck big enough
to let the life out of a grisly bear ; you have
hit him nearly an inch further back than I
taught you to aim before you went across the
great water, and learnt all kinds of British and
German notions?"
Reginald smiled at the hunter's characteris-
tic reproof, and replied in a tone of kindness,
" Well, Baptiste, all that I do know of track-
ing a deer, or lining a bee, or of bringing down
one. of these little vermint, I learnt first from
you ; and if I am a promising pupil, the credit
is due to Baptiste, the best hunter in forest
or prairie !"
A glow of pleasure passed over the guide's
sunburnt countenance ; and grasping in his hard
and horny fingers his young master's hand, he
said, " Thank'ee, Master Reginald ; and as for
me, though 1 'm only a poor " Coureur des
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
bois,"* I a'n't feared to back my pupil against
any man that walks, from Dan Boone, of Ken-
tucky, to Bloody-hand, the great war-chief of
the Cayugas."
As he spoke, they came in sight of the river,
and the blue smoke curling up among the trees,
showed our travellerT that they had not missed
their path to Michael's log-house and ferry.
"What have we here?'* exclaimed Baptiste,
catching his companion by the arm ; *' 'tis even
as I told you : the old rogue is smoking his
pipe over a glass of brandy in his kitchen cor-
ner; and there is a wild- looking Indian pulling
himself across with three horses in that crazy
batteau, almost as old and useless as its owner !"
" He will scarcely reach the opposite bank,"
said Reginald; "the river is muddy and swollen
with melted snow, and his horses seem disposed
to be unquiet passengers."
They had now approached near enough to
enable them to distinguish the features of the
Indian in the boat; the guide scanned them
* " Coureur des bois," an appellation often given to the
Canadian and half-breed woodsmen.
THE rRAIRIE-niRD.
7n
with evident surprise and interest, the result
of which was, a noise which broke from him,
something between a grunt and a whistle, as
he muttered, " What can have brought him
here?"
*'Do you know that fine-looking fellow,
then?" inquired Reginald.
" Know him. Master Reginald .'—does *Wolf '
know Miss Lucy ? — does a bear know a bee-
tree? — I should know him among a thousand
Red-skins, though he were twice as well dis-
guised. Tete-bleu, master, look at those wild
brutes how they struggle; he and they will
taste Muskingum water before long.''
While he was speaking one of the horses
reared, another kicked furiously, the shallow
fiat boat was upset, and both they and the
Indian fell headlong into the river; they had
been secured together by a "laryette" or thong
of hide, which unfortunately came athwart the
Indian's shoulder, and thus he was held below
the water, while the struggles of the frightened
animals rendered it impossible for him to ex-
tricate himself. " He is entangled in the lar-
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76
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
yette, " said the guide ; " nothing can save
him," he added in a grave and sadder tone.
" 'Tis a noble youth, and I would have wished
him a braver death ! What are you doing,
Master Reginald ? — are you mad ? No man
can smm in that torrent. For your fathers
Gdice-
But his entreaties and attempts to restrain
his impetuous companion were fruitless, for
Reginald had already thrown on the ground
his leathern hunting shirt, his rifle, and ammu-
nition ; and shaking off the grasp of the guide
as if the latter had been a child, he plunged
into the river, and swam to the spot where the
feebler strugglr" of the horses showed that they
were now almost at the mercy of the current.
When he reached them, Reginald dived below
the nearest, and dividing the laryette with two
or three successful strokes of his knife, brought
the exhausted Indian to the surface ; for a mo-
ment, he feared that he had come too late ; but
on inhaling a breath of air, the Redskin seemed
to regain both consciousness and strength, and
was able in his turn to assist Reginald, who had
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
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received, when under water, a blow on the head
from the horse's hoof, the blood flowing fast
from the wound; short but expressive was the
greeting exchanged as they struck out for the
bank which one of the horses had already
gained; another was bruised, b ♦^^ered, and
tossed about among some shelving rocks lower
down the river; and the third was being f;'.st hur-
ried towards the same dangerous spot, when the
Indian, uttering a shrill cry, turned and swam
again towards this, his favourite horse, and by
a great exertion of skill and strength, brought
it to a part of the river where the current was
less rapid, and thence led it safely ashore.
These events had passed in less time than
their narration has occupied, and the whole
biped and quadruped party nov, stood drenched
and dripping on the bank. The two young
men gazed at each other in silence, with looks
of mingled interest and admiration; indeed, if
a sculptor had desired to place together two
different specimens of youthful manhood, in
which symmetry and strength were to be grace-
fully united, he could scarcely have selected
h
78
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
two finer models: in height they might be
about equal; and though the frame and mus-
cular proportions of Reginald were more power-
ful, there was a roundness and compact knit-
ting of the joints, and a sinewy suppleness
in the limbs of his new acquaintance, such
as he thought he had never seen equalled in
statuary or in life. The Indian's gaze was
so fixed and piercing, that Reginald's eye wan-
dered more than once from his countenance
to the belt, where his war-club was still sus-
pended by a thong, the scalp-knife in its
sheath, and near it a scalp, evidently that
of a white man, and bearing the appearance
of having been recently taken.
With a slight shudder of disgust, he raised
his eyes again to the chiselled features of the
noble-looking being before him, and felt as-
sured that though they might be those of a
savage warrior, they could not be those of a
lurking assassin. The Indian now moved a
step forward, and taking Reginald's hand,
placed it upon his own heart, saying distinctly
in English, " My brother I"
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
79
,,!
Reginald understood and appreciated this
simple expression of gratitude and friendship ;
he imitated his new friend's action, and evinced,
both by his looks and the kindly tones of his
voice, the interest which, to his own surprise,
the Indian had awakened in his breast
At this juncture they were joined by th«
guide, who had paddled himself across in a
canoe that he found at the ferry, which was
two hundred yards above the spot where they
now stood. At his approach, the young In-
dian resumed his silent attitude of repose;
while, apparently unconscious of his presence,
Baptiste poured upon his favourite a min-
gled torrent of reproofs and congratulations.
'* Why, Master Reginald, did the mad spirit
possess you to jump into the Muskingum, and
dive like an otter, where the water was swift
and dark as the Niagara rapids ! Pardie,
though, it was bravely done ! another minute,
and our Redskin friend would have been in
the hunting-ground of his forefathers. Give
me your hand, master; I love you better than
ever ! I had a mind to take a duck myself
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
after ye; but thought, if bad luck came, I
might serve ye better with the canoe." While
rapidly uttering these broken sentences, he
handed to Reginald the hunting- shirt, rifle,
and other things, which he had brought over
in the canoe, and wrung the water out of
his cap, being all the time in a state of
ill -dissembled excitement. This done, he
turned to the young Indian, who was standing
aside, silent and motionless. The guide scan-
ned his features with a searching look, and
then muttered audibly, " I knew it must be
he."
A gleam shot from the dark eye of the
Indian, proving that he heard and understood
the phrase, but not a word escaped his lips.
Reginald, unable to repress his curiosity,
exclaimed, " Must be who, Baptiste ? Who
is my Indian friend — my brother?"
A lurking smile played round the mouth
of the guide, as he said in a low tone to the
Indian, " Does the paint on my brother's face
tell a tale ? is his path in the night ? must his
name dwell between shut lips?"
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
81'
I'o this last question the Indian, moving
forward with that peculiar grace and innate
, dignity which characterized all his movements,
replied, " The War-Eagle hide? his nume from
none: his cry is heard from far, and his path
is straight : a dog's scalp is at his belt ! " Here
he paused a moment ; and added, in a softened
tone, " But the bad Spirit prevailed ; the waters
were too strong for him; the swimming-war-
rior's knife came; and again the War-Eagle
saw the light.'"*
" And found a brother — is it not so?" added
Reginald.
" It is so !" replied the Indian: and there
was a depth of pathos in the tone of his voice
as he spoke, which convinced Reginald that
those words came from the heart.
" There were three horses with you in the
bac," said the guide: "two are under yonder
trees ; — where is the third ? "
•" Dead, among those rocks below the rapids,"
answered War-Eagle, quietly. " He was a
fool, and was taken from a fool, and both are
62
THE PRAIRIE- BIRD.
now together :" as he spoke he pointed scorn-
fully to the scalp which hung at his belt.
Reginald and Baptiste interchanged looks
of uneasy curiosity, and then directing their
eyes towards the distant spot indicated by the
Indian, they distinguished the battered carcass
of the animal, partly hid by the water, and
partly resting against the rock, which pre-
vented it from floating down with the current.
The party now turned towards the horses
among the trees; which, after enjoying them-
selves by rolling in the grass, were feeding,
apparently unconscious of their double mis-
demeanour in having first upset the bac, and
then nearly drowned their master by their
struggles ill the water. As Reginald and his
two companions approached, an involuntary
exclamation of admiration burst from him.
'* Heavens, Baptiste ! did you ever see so
magnificent a creature as that with the lar-
yette round his neck ? And what a colour !
it seems between chestnut and black ! Look
at his short, wild head, his broad forehead,
his bold eye, and that long silky mane falling
.C^fi,
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
83
below his shoulder ! Look, also, at his short
back and legs I Why, he has the beauty of
a barb joined to the strength of an English
hunter ! "
It may be well imagined that the greater
portion of this might have been a soliloquy,
as Baptists understood but few, the Indian
none, of the expressions which Reginald ut-
tered with enthusiastic rapidity; both, how-
ever, understood enough to know that he was
admiring the animal, and both judged that his
admiration was not misplaced.
Our hero (for so we must denominate Re-
ginald Brandon) approached to handle and
caress the horse ; but the latter, with erect ears
and expanded nostrils, snorted an indignant
refusal of these civilities, and trotted off, toss-
ing high his mane as if in defiance of man's
dominion. At this moment, the VV^ar-Eagle
uttered a shrill, peculiar cry, when immediate-
ly the obedient horse came to his side, rub-
bing his head against his master's shoulder,
and courting those caresses which he had so
lately and so scornfully refused from Reginald.
h:
84
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
While the docile and intelligent animal thus
stood beside him, a sudden ray of light sparkled
in the Indian's eye, as with rapid utterance,
not unmingled with gesticulation, he said,
" The War-Eagle''s path was toward the even-
ing sun ; his tomahawk. drank the Camanchee^s
blood ; the wild horse was swift, and strong,
and fierce; the cunning man on the evening
prairie said he was Nekimif* — * the Great
Spirit's angry breath;' but the War-Eagle's
neck- bullet struck" —
At this part of the narrative, the guide, car-
ried away by the enthusiasm of the scene de-
scribed, ejaculated in the Delaware tongue,
*' That was bravely done !"
For a moment the young Indian paused ;
and then, with increased rapidity and vehe-
mence, told in his own language how he had
captured and subdued the horse ; which faithful
creature, seemingly anxious to bear witness to
the truth of his master's tale, still sought and
returned his caresses. The Indian, however,
was not thereby deterred^ from the purpose
* Nekimi is the Delaware for " Thunder."
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
85
which had already made his eye flash with
pleasure. Taking the thong in his hand, and
placing it in that of Reginald, he said, resum-
ing the English tongue, " The War-Eagle
gives Nekimi to his brother. The white war-
rior may hunt the mastoche,* he may overtake
his enemies, he may fly from the prairie-fire
when the wind is strong: Nekimi never tires !"
Reginald was so surprised at this unexpected
offer, that he felt much embarrassed, and hesi-
tated whether he ought not to decline the
gift. Baptiste saw a cloud gathering on the
Indian's brow, and said in a low voice to his
master in French, " You must take the horse ;
a refusal would mortally offend him." Our
hero accordingly accompanied his expression
of thanks with every demonstration of satis-
faction and affection. Again War-Eagle's face
brightened with pleasure; but the effect upon
Nekimi seemed to be very different, for he
stoutly resisted his new master's attempts at
I "'.1
• In the Delaware language this expression seems ap-
plicable to any large swift animal, as it is given to the
elk, the buiFalo, &c.
86 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
approach or acquaintance, snorting and back-
ing at every step made by Reginald in advance.
" The white warrior must learn to speak
to Nekirai," said the Indian, quietly ; and he
again repeated the short, shrill cry before no-
ticed. In vain our hero tried to imitate the
sound; the horse's ears remained deaf to his
voice, and it seemed as if his new acquisition
could prove but of little service to him.
War-Eagle now took Reginald aside, arid
smeared his hands with some grease taken from
a small bladder in his girdle, and on his ex-
tending them again towards the horse, much
of the fear and dislike evinced by the latter
disappeared. As soon as the animal would
permit Reginald to touch it, the Indian desired
him to hold its nostril firmly in his hand, and
placing his face by the horse''s head, to look
up steadfastly into its eye for several minutes,
speaking low at intervals to accustom it to his
voice ; he assured him that in a few days Ne-
kimi would through this treatment become
docile and obedient.
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
87
CHAPTER VI.
\f.'»
RKOINALD AND BAPTISTS PAY A VISIT TO WAK-EAGLE.-AN
ATTEMI'T AT TREACHEUY MEETS WITH SUMMAIiY PUNISH-
ilENT.
The other horse being now secured, the
party prepared to resume their journey j and
as it app, ired after a few words whispered
between the Indian and the guide, that their
routes were in the same direction, they struck
into the forest, Baptiste lea >ng, followed by
Reginald, and War-Eagle bring.ng up the rear
with the two horses.
After walking a few minutes in silence,
" Baptiste," said our hero in French, "what was
the story told about the horse > I understood
little of what he said in English, and none of
what he spoke in his r^^vn tongue."
« He told us, Masto Reginald, that he was
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out on a war-party against the Camanchees, a
wild tribe of Indians in the South-west; they
steal horses from the Mexicans, and exchange
them with the Aricaras, Kioways, Pawnees,
and other Missouri Indians.""
" Well, Baptiste, how did he take this swiic
horse with his ' neck-bullet,' as he called it ?"
"That, Master Reginald, is the most difl5-
cult shot in the prairie ; and I have know few
Redskins up to it. The western hunters call
it * creasing: '—a ball must be shot just on the
upper edge of the spine where it enters the
horse's neck; if it is exactly done, the horse
falls immediately, and is secured, then the
wound is afterwards healed; but, if the ball
strikes an inch lower, the spine is missed, or
the horse is killed. Few Redskins can do it,"
muttered the guide, "and the *doctor' here,"
shaking his long rifle, " has failed more than
once; but War-Eagle has said it, and there
are no lies in his mouth."
" T6ll me, Baptiste," said Reginald, ear-
nestly ; " tell me something about my bro-
ther's history, his race, and exploits.""
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. W
" Afterwards, my young mt^^ter. I know not
that he understands us now ; but these Indians
are curious critturs in hearing; i believe if
you spoke in that strange Dutch lingo which
you learnt across the water, the Redskins would
know how to answer you — stay," added he, put-
ting his rifle to his shoulder, " here is work for
the doctor."
Reginald looked in the direction of the piece,
but saw nothing ; and the guide, while taking
his aim, still muttered to himself, " the pills are
very small, but they work somewhat sharp."
Pausing a moment, he drew the trigger; and
a sudden bound from under a brake, at fifty
yards distance, was the last death-spring of the
unlucky deer whose lair had not escaped the
hunter's practised eye.
"Bravely shot," shouted Reginald; "what
says War-Eagle?" ""
" Good," replied the Indian.
" Nay," said Baptiste ; " there was not much
in the shot; but your French waly-de-sham
might have walked past those bushes without
noting the twinkle of that crittur's eye. Our
M
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90
THE PBAIRIE-BIRD.
Redskin friend saw it plain enough I warrant
you," added he, with an inquiring look.
« War-Eagle's path is not on the deer track,"
said the young chief, with a stern gravity.
In a very few minutes an additional load of
venison was across the sturdy shoulders of the
guide, and the party resumed their march in
silence.
They had not proceeded far, when the Indian
halted, saying, « War-Eagle's camp is near ;
will my white brother eat and smoke ' — the
sun is high, he can then return to his great
wigwam."
Reginald, who was anxious to see more of
his new friend, and in whom the morning's
exercise had awakened a strong relish for a
slice of broiled venison, assented at once, and
desired him to lead the way.
As he was still followed by the two horses,
War-Eagle was somewhat in advance of his
companions, and Baptiste whispered in French,
" Beware, Master Reginald — you may fall into
a trap." '
" For shame," said the latter, colouring with
i
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. #|
indignation; "can you suspect treachery in
him? Did you not yourself say he could not
lie?"
"Your reproof is undeserved," said the cool
and wary hunter; "War-Eagle may not be
alone, there may be turkey- buzzards with
him."
" If there be a score of vultures," said Regi-
nald, « I will follow him without fear— he would
not lead us into harm."
"Perhaps you are right," was the guide's
answer ; and again the party resumed their
march in silence.
They soon arrived at a place where the forest
was less densely wooded; some of the larger
trees appeared to have been overthrown by a
hurricane, and some of the lesser to have fallen
by the axe. Nekimi trotted forward, as if
making for a spot that he recognised, and the
Indian recalled him with the same cry that he
had before used, adding, however, another, and
a shriller sound.
The guide shook his head, and muttered
something inaudibly between his teeth, loosen-
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VJt THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
ing at the same time the huge axe in his helt,
and throwing his long rifle over his arm, ready
for immediate use.
These preparations did not escape the ob>
servation of Reginald; and although he said
nothing, he felt more uneasy than he cared to
own; for it struck him that if the guide, who
seemed to have so high an opinion of War-
Elagle, was apprehensive of treachery or of
some unforeseen danger, there was less ground
for his own confidence.
• Meantime the Indian walked composedly
forward until he reached the camp^* — a pretty
spot, sheltered on the windward side by a laurel,
thicket, and on the other commanding a view
of the open glade, and of a small stream wind-
ing its silent course towards the river which
our party had so lately left.
On a grassy plot, between two venerable
trees, the embers of a smouldering fire sent up
* Among the western hunters any resting-place for the
night, or even where a fire has been made for a mid-day
halt, though it may be by one individual, is commonly
called " a camp." This must be borne in mind throughout
the foUowina; tale.
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
93
the thin blue vapour which rises from the
burning of green wood, several logs of which
were still piled for fuel ; while sundry bones and
feathers, scattered at no' great distance, gave
sufficient evidence of recent feasting.
War- Eagle glanced hastily around his camp ;
and leaving Nekimi to feed at liberty, secured
the less tractaU; horse; while he was thus em-
ployed, the guide whispered in a low voice,
" There are three or four Indians here ! I trace
their marks on the grass, and I know it by this
fire; it is a war party — there are no squaws
here: Master Reginald, keep your ears and
eyes open, but show no distrust ; if he offers a
pipe, all may yet be right."
Although the guide said this so distinctly
that Reginald heard every syllable, he was to
all appearance busily engaged in throwing some
dry sticks on the fire, and easing himself of the
skins and the venison with which he was loaded.
The Indian now took from a hollow in one of
the old trees before-mentioned, a pipe, the bowl
of which was of red sandstone, and the stick
painted and ornamented with stained porcupine
w
-/
94
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
quills ; he also drew out a leather bag of Kinnc-
kinek; and having filled and lighted his pipe,
seated himself at a short distance from the fire,
and gravely invited Reginald to sit on his right,
and the guide on his left As soon as they were
seated, War-Eagle inhaled a large volume of
smoke; and looking reverently up to the sky,
sent forth a long whiflP, as an ofiering to the
Great Spirit ; then simply saying, " My brother
is welcome," he passed the pipe to Reginald,
and afterwards to Baptiste.
For some time they smoked in silence: not
a sound was heard but the crackling of the
wood on the fire, and the occasional chirrup of
a robin in the neighbouring bushes ; this silent
system not suiting Reginald's ardent tempera-
ment, he abruptly addressed the Indian as
follows.
* Kinne-kinek is a mixture made by the Indians from
the inner bark of the willow poimded small, tobacco,
and the dried leaves of the sumach : the flavour of this
composition is by no means disagreeable ; the word itself
is Delaware, but the mixture is in commoA use among
many tribes.
a
a
1(
h
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
95
" Has my brother come far from his people?"
A cloud gathered on the chief's brow, and the
guide thought that a storm of wrath would be
excited by this unlucky question; but the In-
dian looking steadily upon the frank open coun-
tenance of the speaker, replied in a voice rather
melancholy than fierce, " War-Eagle has few
people : the bones of his fathers are not far ! "
Our hero anxious to dismiss a subject which
seemed painful to his new friend, turned the
conversation to his equipment, and observed,
" My brother walks abroad without fear ; he is
almost without arms."
The Indian carelessly resting his hand upon
his war-club, said (speaking rather to himself
than to his companions), " It has tasted blood :
ask the Dahcotahs !^^
" The Dahcotahs are dogs," said the guide
angrily. " Their skins are red, but their hearts
are white ! "
War-Eagle turning upon him a penetrating
look, continued, " Grande-Hache is a warrior ;
he has smoked, has feasted, has fought among
^
^^
96
THE PRAIRIE-BIPn.
than one Da-
[ache cannot
,s in the lodge
unquiet in the
the Lenape ; * he has struck
cotah chief. But the Gra
rest : the scalp of 1 ' mother
of the Assiniboins ; j "*• s^
dark hunting-ground.'
The guide made no reply, but the forced
compression of his lips, and the muscular con-
traction that passed over his sinewy frame,
showed how deeply he chorished that vengeance
which the Indian's word awakened.
" This is, then," said our hero to himself,
" the cause of that fierce unextinguishable hate
which Baptiste has always borne to these
Sioux ; I cannot wonder at it." Reginald con-
tinued, however, his conversation respecting his
new friend's equipment, in the same tone:
" My brother's war-club is strong, and that
iron spike in its head is sharp; but the rifle
kills from far, and the white men are not all
friends to him."
* The Delawares call themselves Lenni-Lenape, — " the
ancient or original people."
'\ Assiniboins — the "stone heaters"— a powerful and
warlike branch of the great Dahcotah or Sioux nation.
w
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
97
<(
War- Eagle has ears and eyes ; he can see
snakes in the grass," was the calm reply.
" Nay, but my brother is careless," said Re-
ginald laughing; " Grande-Hache, as you call
him, and I are two men, both strong and armed
with rifles : if we were not his brothers, the
War-Eagle would be in danger."
" The bad Spirit made the thick water and
the horses too strong for War-Eagle," said the
latter, referring to the morning's accident, " but
he could not be hurt by his brother's rifle."
" And why so?" demanded Reginald.
" Because," said the Indian, " the white war-
rior has smoked, has taken his brother's gift,
and the Great Spirit has written on his face
that he cannot speak lies."
" You are right, my brave friend," said Regi-
nald, (not a little gratified by the untutored
compliment;) "but if you fall in with white
men who carry rifles, and who do speak lies —
how fares it with you then P"
" War-Eagle is always ready," said he, in
the same unmoved tone ; " the Grande-Hache*
is a great warrior — my brother will take many
%
!■•
VOL. I.
F
98
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
scalps; yet if their tongues were forked — if
their hearts were bad — both would die where
they now sit — they have neither ears nor eyes
— but the Lenape is a chief, they are as safe
here as in the great white village."
Though inwardly nettled at this taunt, which
he felt to be not altogether undeserved, the
guide took no other notice of it than to strain
to the utmost those organs of sight and hearing
which the Redskin had held so cheap, but in
>ain: the forest around them seemed wrapt in
solitude and silence; the eyes of Reginald,
however, served him better on this occasion.
*'By heaven, the Indian speaks truth," said
he; "I see them plainly — one, two, three!
and we, Baptiste, are at their mercy."
This he spoke in French, and the guide an-
swered in the same language : " Do you see
Indians, Master Reginald, where I can see
naught but trees, and logs, and grass ; if it is
so — I am an owl, and no hunter !"
'* Glance your eye," said our hero, calnily, to
yon old fallen log, that lies fifty or sixty yards
to your right, there are three small parallel*
' ft
^
;e!
to
■ds
lei
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 99
lines visible there, — they are three gun-barrels ;
the sun shone on them a minute since, and
their muzzles are directed full upon us."^
" It is true ; your eyes are younger than
mine, I suppose," said the guide, apparently
more disconcerted at that circumstance than
at the imminent peril of their situation. He
added, in a low, determined tone, "but they
must shoot very true, if they wish to prevent
me from taking this deep and deceitful villain
with me on the long journey."
During the whole of this conversation, War-
Eagle sat in unmoved silence, occasionally puf-
fing out a whiff from the fragrant herb in his
pipe. Reginald met the unexpected danger
with the straightforward, daring courage which
was the characteristic of his mind; Baptiste
with the cool resolution which was the result
of a life of stratagems, perils, and escapes.
" War- Eagle," said the former, " you speak
true ; Grande- Hache and I have shut our eyes
and ears ; but they are now open ; I see your
warriors."
The Indian turned his searching eye full
f2
mm^'
100
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
upon the speaker; he met a look bold, open,
fearless as his own. " Where can lay white
brother see warriors?" he inquired.
" Their guns are across yonder log," said Re-
ginald ; " and their muzzles are pointed here."
" It is 80," said War-Eagle ; *' the red men
are on the war-path; they seek blood; is my
white brother not afraid?"
" War-Eagle is a chief," replied the young
man ; " he cannot lie, — he has said that his white
brother is as safe as in the wigwam of his fa-
ther!"
Again the Indian bent a scrutinizing look
upon the countenance of the speaker, and
again met the same smile of fearless confi-
dence. With more emotion than he had yet
shown, he said, " The Great Spirit has given to
my white brother the big heart of a Lenape !"
He now made a signal to his ambuscade to
come forth, on which they started up from be-
hind the large fallen tree which had hitherto
screened them, and advanced slowly towards
the camp. They were three in number; two
of them active looking men, of moderate sta-
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
101
k
ture, but of symmetrical proportions; the third
a lad, apparently about seventeen years old ;
the faces of the two former were painted with
black stripes, which gave them an appearance
at once jfierce and grotesque ; they were lightly
clad in hunting -shirts, leggins, and mocas-
sins, all of elk-skin, and each carried a toma-
hawk, scalp-knife, and the gun before men-
tioned ; the young lad carried no other weapon
but the gun; his hunting-shirt was fancifully
ornamented with tassels of porcupine quills,
and was fastened at the waist by a belt stud-
ded with party-coloured beads; his leggins
were fringed, and his mocassins were also
braided with the quills of the porcupine; in
figure he was slight and tall ; as he drew near,
Reginald thought his countenance even more
remarkable than that of War-Eagle; indeed its
beauty would have been almost effeminate, had
it not been for the raven blackness of the hair,
and the piercing fire of the dark eyes. The
three came forward in silence, the lad being
rather in advance of the others, and stood be-
fore the War- Eagle.
fir'
102
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
He bade them in his own language to be
seated, and smoke the pipe with the white men.
They did so, with the exception of the lad, who
not being yet a warrior, passed it untouched;
and when it had gone round, War-Eagle ha-
rangued his party; as he narrated the events
of the morning, Reginald was struck by the
deep and flexible modulation of his voice; and
although he did not understand a word of the
language, fancied that he knew when the chief
related his immersion and subsequent preserva-
tion by the white man's knife.
At this portion of the tale, the Indian youth
made no attempt to conceal his emotion ; his
glistening eyes were fixed upon the speaker,
and every feature of his intelligent countenance
beamed with affectionate interest : as War-Eagle
described his being struck under water, stun-
ned by a blow from a horse's foot, and that
the thick water covered him, a hurried excla-
mation escaped from the boy's lips ; and when
his chief related how the white warrior had
dived, had cut the cord in which he was en-
tangled, and had brought him again to the
THE PRAIRIE- BIRD. 103
air and to life, the youth, no longer able to
control his feelings, threw himself into Regi-
nald's arms, exclaiming in good English,
" The Great Spirit reward the white war-
rior : he has given me back my chief— my bro-
ther!"
Our hero was no less astonished than was
the guide, at such uncontrolled emotion in a
youth of a nation so early taught to conceal
their feelings; nor were they less surprised
at the clearness and purity of accent with which
he expressed himself in English.
" I only did, my boy," said Reginald, kindly,
" what you would have done had you been in
my place."
" You are a great warrior," said the youth,
running his eye over the powerful frame beside
him : " Wingenund would have gone into the
strong river, and would have died with the
War-Eagle."
" Is Wingenund, then, your name, my brave
boy?"
« It was my forefather's name," said the
youth, proudly. " I have yet no name : but
■^
104
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
War-Eagle says I may have one soon, and I
will have no other."
" I feel sure you will deserve your fore-
father's name," said Reginald. "What does
it mean in my language ?'*
*' It means * The Beloved.' "
" The youth speaks true," murmured the
guide, (who, though busily engaged in round-
ing off a bullet with his knife, lost not a word
or gesture that passed,) "he speaks only truth ;
I knew his forefather well: a braver and a
better heart never dwelt among the Lenape."
The boy looked gratefully at the weather-
beaten hunter; and as he cast his eyes down
in silence, it would have been difficult to say
whether pleasure, pride, or pain predominated
in their expression.
" Tell me," resumed Reginald, " how come
you to speak English like a white man?"
" The good-father and Olitipa taught me."
Reginald looked at the guide for an expla-
nation ; that worthy personage shook his head,
saying, " The boy talks riddles ; but they are
not hard to guess. The good-father must be
ll
-/.^^
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 105
some missionary, or priest; and OUtipa would
w their tongue signify « pretty prairie-fowl;'
so it is probably the name of a Delaware wo-
man—perhaps his sister."
" ^'^'^^ ^«-so it is," said the boy : « Oli-
tipa is in your tongue ' pretty prairie-bird,' and
she is my sister."
"Where is Prairie-bird ?» inquired Regi-
nald, amused by the youth's nawete.
« Far, far away, beyond the great river !
But we will go back soonj-shall we not?"
inquired he, looking up timidly at War-Eagle.
''Pecfm lenitti-* answered the chief; and
leaning towards the youth, he added some
words in a whisper, ^hich made him start
up to obey the orders he had received.
Reginald was not long left in ignorance of
their nature, as in a few minutes the active
lad had refreshed the fire, and was busy in
broiling some venison steaks, which, after the
exercise of the morning, sent up a steam tar
from unpleasant to the senses of any of those
present.
By-and-by," or " soon."
F 5
b
I /
I '.
w
.«^ •'•^\-
-•-ki
106
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
" Master Reginald/' said the guide, *' that
silly perroquet of yours, Gustave Perrpt, is
always telling fine stories of what he has seen
in Europe, and talking of the scent of roses,
and the sweet sounds of music, till the girls
in the clearins think he's a book-author and
a poet ; did you ever smell any scent, or hear
any music, sweeter than comes from the hiss-
ing and frizzing of those b.ices of fat venison
after a six hours' hunt in the woods ?"
" Perhaps not," said Reginald, laughing ;
" but we are only hunters, and Monsieur
Perrot is a man of taste."
" Whom have we here ?" grumbled the guide,
as an Indian appeared in the distance. " Friend
War-Eagle, is this another of your band ? "
" He is," replied the chief: " all are now
here."
The new-comer was a powerful, athletic-
looking man; his face was painted one half
black, and the other half striped with bars of
red; the sleeves of bis hunting-shirt were so
short and loose, that his naked arms were
visible, one of which was tatooed in the form
VSJ^
THE PRAIRI^-BIRD. 107
of a lizard, and on the other he wore an arm-^
let of brass; his leggins and mocassins were
soiled and torn, and the perspiration streaming
from his matted hair shewed that he had
travelled both far and fast. He was, like the
rest, equipped with rifle, tomahawk, and scalp-
knife; his countenance, as far as it could be
distinguished through its disguise of paint, was
expressive of cunning and ferocity. Though
probably much surprised at seeing two white
men sitting thus amicably with his chief, he
took little notice of them, or of the rest of
the party ; but without asking, or being asked,
any questions, seated himself on the opposite
side of the fire, lighted his pipe, and smoked.
*' Master Reginald," said the guide, in
French, " I do not like that fellow. I know
not how he comes to be with our friend here,
for he belongs to another tribe : I have seen
him before."
Meantime, the industrious lad had broiled
his venison steaks, and having gathered some
broad leaves, which served on this occasion
for plates, he brought the first slice to Regi-
I";
108
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
nald, the second to Baptiste, the next to War-
Eagle, and so on, until he went through the
party; after which, without tasting anything
himself, he took his station close to his chief
and his new friend. During the meal, the
Indian last arrived talked much in a suppressed
voice to the one next to him, and seemed
studiously to avert his eyes from his chief and
the two white men.
" Tarhe," said War-Eagle, addressing him,
" is there not tassmanane * for the stranger ?
he is my brother, and his path has been long."
Tarhe went to his " cache," a spot not
many yards distant, and taking out two or
three small cakes, brought them round behind
his chief, and offered one to our hero, who
was in the act of receiving it, when thq mis-
creant, drawing the knife from his girdle,
aimed a blow at the back of the unsuspecting
Reginald.
Nothing could have saved him from instant
* Tassmanane : a kind of bread made by the Delawares
lor long journeys. It is made of maize, powdered very fine,
aiid sweetened with maple sugar.
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
109
death, had not the gallant boy thrown himself
between the savage and his victim. The
knife went through his arm; and so deadly
was the force by which it was guided, that
it still descended, and inflicted a slight scratch
on Reginald's shoulder.
Waiv Eagle sprang like a tiger from the
ground, and with one blow of his tremendous
war-club dashed the ruffian to the earth ; then
turning suddenly his angry glance upon the
two other Indians, he asked if they had any
part in Tarhe's plot. Neither had stirred from
their seat, and both declared they had known
nothing of his intention. It was well for them
that the chief believed them, for this act of vile
treachery had aroused all the slumbering fire
within him, and the veins started like blue
cords upon his temples.
Reginald's first impulse, when he jumped
upon his feet, was to hasten to the wounded
youth, whose features were now lighted up
by a smile of happiness. " Tell me, my brave
generous boy, are you much hurt?"
" No," said he: " I should have been hurt
I'
110
THE PRAIRIE-BIBD.
V ilil
if the War-Eagle's camp had been stained
with the blood of his white brother."
The sturdy guide himself could not repress
bis admiration of this gallant boy^s conduct,
who now stood looking intently upon War-
Eagle, his features animated by excitement and
by pride, and the knife still fixed up to the
very handle in his arm.
" War-Eagle," said Baptiste, " the Lenape
are men, — their boys are warriors : that dog is
not a Lenape," added, he, pointing to the pros-
trate body of Tarh^.
" Tah-DelamattenoSi*' * said the chief indig-
nantly. The youth now moving a step forward,
came before his chief with an air of modest
dignity, and slowly drew the reeking knife from
his ann, while a stream of blood gushed from
the wound ; not a muscle of his frame trembled,
not a feature varied its expression, as he said
* " Tah-Delamattenos," — « No, he is a Wyandot."
This tribe occupied the region to the north of Oliio, and
the north-west of Pennsylvania ; they spoke a dialect of
the Iroquois, and are better known by the name of Hu-
rons ; they sometimes hunted with the Delaware, by whom
they were designated as above.
I^u.
^„^,_-^ — ,;^ -i ,; 'ia' ■*« ^ >.-
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
Ill
in a voice of musical gentleness, " War-Eagle,
will Wingenund allow his grandson now to hear
his name?"
" Wingenund I'' said War- Eagle, looking upon
him with affectionate pride, « the chiefs at the
Council-fire shall know that the blood of the
well-beloved still flows in a young warrior's
veins."
" My good friend," said the guide to the
chief, « you have no time to lose, the lad will
bleed to death ! "
Reginald sprang forward, and closing as he
best could the gaping wound, bound his hand-
kerchief tightly over it.
There was, indeed, no time to be lost; for
the blood had flowed more freely than his
youthful frame could endure. A painful dizzi-
ness came over him; and murmuring almost
inaudibly " The White Warrior isj safe, and
Wingenund is happy," he fell senseless into
Reginald's arms.
!! '1
112
CHAPTER VII.
CONTAINING SOME PAUTICOLARS OV THE HISTORY OF THE
TWO DEI,AWARE8 AND OF BAPTISTE. THE LATTER RETURNS
WITH REGINALD TO MOOSHANNE, THE RESIDENCE OF 00-
tONEL BRANDON.
" I FEAR he will die ! " said Reginald in a
tone of the deepest grief, as he stooped over
the inanimate form of the wounded boy.
" Die ! " said the War-Eagle almost fiercely,
" yes, he will die ! but not by the bite of
yonder serpent," pointing to the body of the
Wyandot ; " he will die when the Great Spirit
orders it ; but before he dies, the murderers of
his father shall hear his war-whoop ! His
tomahawk shall be red in their blood; their
scalps shall hang at his belt ! then Wingenund
may go to his ancient people in the happy
hunting fields !"'
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
lis
" My brother," aaid Reginald earnestly, and
still suppor'bing the insensible frame of Winge-
nund, " do not lead this youth to shed the
white man's blood I He cannot call back those
who are gone ! We have a book which the
Great Spirit gave to our forefathers ; it speaks
His own words, and He tells us, ' Vengeance
is mine;' and He also tells us that if we would
please Him, we must forgive those who have
injured us ; His arrows are very sharp ; His
anger is fierce; His justice is sure. Leave
Him to punish those bad men, and teach the
* well-beloved * to be the white man's friend."
For a minute the chief seemed buried in
deep thought ; then suddenly starting from his
reverie, he spoke a few words in a low tone to
one of his men, who instantly moved away,
and disappeared in the forest.
War-Eagle then replied in a tone rather of
melancholy than of reproof, " The Great Spirit
never speaks to the red man in words : if He
is angry, He thun lers ; if He is pleased, He
sends rain and sunshine, to make the corn and
fruits to grow, and sweet grass to fatten the
-
i
f
I
114
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
I".-';;;!!
;''■ !
deer; my brother says the Great Spirit has
spoken plainly to the white man in words, and
that those words are painted in a book. War-
Eagle believes it, because my brother's tongue
is not forked ; but he would ask, — Did
those white men, who came in the night like
wolves to the couch of the fawn, who murdered
the father, the kindred, the little sisters of
Wingenund, — did those men hear the Great
Spirit's words?"
" My brother," said Reginald, " there are
among white men many wolves and serpents:
men w hose hands are bloody, and their tongue
forked. The Great Spirit does not forbid to
punish, or even to kill h^At men, in defence of
ourselves, our wigwLms, our children, or our
friend; He is not angry with War-Eagle for
striking dowi. that Huron whose hand was
raised to shed his brother's blood; but when
the grass of many seasons has grown over the
graves of those who were injured, then the
Great Spirit commands man to let his anger
sleep, to bury his hatchet, and to forgive."
" It may be so," said War- Eagle gravely.
.
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
116
■i
" the Good Father in the Western Hunting-
ground has said the same ; Olitipa, whose voice
is like the mocking-bird, and who speaks only
truth, she has spoken the same; but it is very
dark, War-Eagle cannot see it."
" Who is the Prairie-bird?" inquired Regi-
nald, whose curiosity had twice been excited
by the mention of this extraordinary name.
Before the chief could reply, the Indian,
whom he had sent, returned with a mess made
from several leaves, herbs, and roots, which he
had bruised and reduced to a kind cf glutinous
pulp; War-Eagle now took off the bandage
from the youth^s arm ; after examining it care-
fully, and applying some of the above mix-
ture to both the orifices of the wound, he
bound it again, more strongly and skilfully than
before ; then taking him in his arms, as if he
• had been a little child, he carried him down to
the rivulet ; and by dint of bathing his temples
and rubbing forcibly his hands and feet, soon
restored the suspended animation.
When he was recovered so far as to be able
to speak, Reginald, sitting down by him, said a
116
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
thousand kind things to him, such as were
prompted by the gratitude of a generous heart.
While they were conversing, the guide drew
near to the chief; and pointing to the body of
the Wyandot, which still lay where he had
fallen, said, " He is surely dead !"
" He is so," replied the other gravely ;
" when War-Eagle is angry he does not strike
his enemy's forehead twice." u
The guide now turned over the body; and
seeing that the iron point of the war- club had
entered just above the eyes, and had sunk deep
into the brain, he knew that instant death must
have ensued. The chief calling the two In-
dians, desired them to bury the body where it
would be safe from wolves and buzzards. " But,"
he added sternly, " let r jt the spot be marked
for his kindred : he died like a dog, and none
should lament him."
As they turned away to execute these orders,
the guide observed to the chief " that Huron
has not been long with the War- Eagle."
" True, — but how does the Grande-Hache
know it?"
THE PRAIRIE-niRD.
117
" His eye has been on him more than once ;
Grande-Hache sees, but he can hold his
tongue."
" Grande-Hache is a warrior," replied the
chief: «' he has seen many things; he has
talked with the wise men ; does he know why
yon Huron wished to kill the young white
brave ?"
" He does," said Grande-Hache ; but as he
did not of himself state what he knew, it would
have been contrary to the usages of Indian
courtesy to have questioned him further.
Baptiste now diverting the conversation to
another topic, said, " It is singular that War-
Eagle, on a war-path far from his village,
should have only strangers with him, excepting
the youth who is wounded !"
" What means the Grande-Hache?"
"He means," replied the guide, "that the
other two, now gone to bury the Huron, are
Southern men* — they are not Lenape."
* Southern-men— in the Delaware language Clia-oua-no
or Shawano— known to the Americans as " Shawnees."
This powerful tribe were generally in alliance with the
)
t i
f .11 -fi 3
118
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
mil
*' Grande-Hache ha*? ears and eyes open —
how can he know that he speaks truth ? " said
the chief.
" Because he has eyes and ears;" replied
the guide. "Does War- Eagle think that
Grande-Hache has hunted twenty years among
the red nations, and knows not yet the mocas-
sin and tongue of a Shawanon? I knew them
at a glance," added he, with shrewd smile, " as
well as I knew the War- Eagle in the batteau,
though both he and they have put on their
faces the paint of the Mengwe."*
" Grande-Hache speaks truth," replied the
chief, dryly, without showing the surprise and
annoyance that he felt at the penetration of the
guide. " The men are Shawanons, they hunt
with the Lenape, beyond the great river — they
are brothers."
So saying, he broke off the conversation, and
Lenap^, and inhabited the country on their western fron-
tier. About the time of our tale, tliey were very numerous
on the banks of the Muskingum and of the Wabash river.
* Mengwe, or Mingoes, — the Delaware name for those
Indians who resided chiefly in the northern States of the
Union, and who are better known as the " Iroquois."
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
119
turning towards Wingenund, saw that he was
talking as earnestly and freely with Reginald as
if they had been long intimate ; while he con-
templated this friendly intercourse with a smile
of satisfaction, the guide felt himself called
upon to remind his companion that the sun
was getting low, that they had yet some miles
to walk, and that the colonel would be anxious
and impatient.
" True," said Reginald, springing up, " I
must take leave of my brother, and of my
young preserver; but we shall meet again ; we
will hunt together, and be friends."
" Let it be so," said the lad, with an ardour
which he cared not to conceal; "and Winge-
nund will tell Prairie-Bird that the white war-
rior who drew War- Eagle from the deep water,
will come to see her, and she will thank him."
While the boy was speaking, the chief turned
away, and busied himself in fastening a thong-
halter firmly to the head of Nekirai whom he
again led to his new master.
Reginald now undid from his waist the silver
buckled belt with the couteau-de-chasse which
lU'^ '
120
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
Lr i'^ !
> i'
II
it supported, and buckling it round the youth,
he said, " Wingenund must wear thiS; and must
not forget his white friend."
The boy's eyes sparkled with pleasure, as he
received this gift ; but he was still too weak to
stand, and he only murmured, in a low voice,
" Wingenund will not forget."
The chief now taking the guide aside, said to
him, in his own language, " How is my white
brother called ?"
" I call him « Master Reginald.' "*
After one or two ludicrous attempts at an
imitation, War-Eagle shook his head, saying,
'<It is not good — may his Lenape friend call
him ' Netis.' "
As soon as Reginald was informed of what
had passed, and of the meaning of his new
name, he accepted it with pleasure, and Winge-
nund repeated it again and again as our hero
bid him farewell.
* "Master Reginald," might well puzzle the chief, as
there is no letter R in the Delaware language, though some
of them contrive to pronounce it.
" Netis " signifies in their tongue, " a trusted friend,"
" one to whom all secrets are confided."
^-k
'SSm
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
121
War-Eagle insisted upon accompanying him,
and leading Nekimi through the forest, until
they reached the broad wheel track which
passed Colonel Brandon's house, and thence
led through other clearings to the village of
Marietta. As they went along, Reginald de-
sired Baptiste in a whisper to talk with the
chief, and endeavour to draw from him, what
article of dress, ornament, or use, he would
most value, as he was anxious to make his In-
dian brother a present ; and the guide, by skil-
fully manoeuvring his conversation, soon learnt
that War-Eagle had, on this last excursion,
lost his rifle, and that he was also short of am-
munition. They now emerged from the forest
upon the great road, if it might be so called,
leading to Marietta; and the Indian putting the
halter of Nekimi into Reginald's hand, said
that he would return to his camp. Our hero,
taking him by the hand, said, "Netis wishes
to see his brother at this spot to-morrow at
noon.
"War- Eagle will come," was the brief reply;
and shaking both the whitemen cordially by
VOL. I.
G
^l>
■■■ ^j
v^
122
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
the hand, he turned and disappeared among
the trees. .*,.
Reginald and the guide were within a few
miles of Colonel Brandon's house; but they
could not proceed very fast, owing to the evi-
dent reluctance shown by Nekimi to follow his
new master; he neighed, snorted, jumped, and
played all manner of pranks in his endeavour to
get loose; but this War-Eagle had foreseen,
and the tough halter of undressed hide was
well enough secured to defy all his efforts at
escape.
" This has been a strange day of adventures,
Baptiste," said Reginald ; " it has been to me
one of the pleasantest of my life !"
" Why, Master Reginald, it has been a day
of events, such as they are; you have been
twice at the outside edge of t'other world, with
water and cold iron." .
" Oh, there was not much harm in the water,"
said Reginald, laughing; "had it not been for
the knock which one of the horses gave me on
the head; but that villanous attempt of the
Huron makes me shudder; — to offer a man food.
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
123
and stab him while he is taking it ! I thought
such a thing was unknown in Indian history."
" It is, almost," said the guide. " But a
Huron — and a Dacotah ! " added he, bitterly
— " would murder a brother to gratify re-
venge."
" But I had never injured him, Baptiste.""
*' His memory is better than yours, Master
Reginald. He and his brother were two of
the leading warriors in that unfortunate affair
where St. Clair was beat by the Ingians, upon
the north fork of the Miami. I was there,
too, and the ' Doctor's ' pills did some sar-
vice — but not much to signify, neither. Co-
lonel Brandon did all that man could do,
but, at last, he was forced back; Well,
that Tarhe and his brother, JBrst in the pur-
suit, killed two of our poor fellows, and were
scalping 'em, when the Colonel called out to
'em, and fired. He killed Tarhe's brother
dead. I see'd it all ; and I took a long squint
with the Doctor at Tarhe, which only lamed
his arm a bit ; for, you see. Master Reginald,
I was a long ways off; and a chap don't shoot
a2
w
124
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
quite so fine when he 's a retreatin' double-
quick, with a few hundred Redskins yeUin'
in his rear. However, that Tarhe has been
more than once down at Marietta, and round
the neighbours' clearins ; and he knowed you,
Master Reginald, just as well as a Kentucky
hog knows an acorn."
" Now I understand it, so far, Baptiste.
But if the fellow wanted to take my life, why
did he not hide in the laurel-thicket, and shoot
me as I passed? Why did he make the at-
tempt where my death was sure to be re-
venged ?"
" Now, Master Reginald, you are asking a
poor ignorant crittur, — who knows nought but
a little huntin', and, may be, knows a beaver-
skin from a buffalo-hide, — all the ins and outs
of a red Ingian''s crooked mind ! May be, he
wanted to force War-Eagle into shedding white-
man's blood. I saw that one of those Shawa-
nons was up to his game ; and if a general
skrimmage had come, they 'd have tried to do
for me. Or, perhaps, when he found his knife
so convenient to the back of your neck, he
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 125
couldn't lose the chance, for the bad spirit
had got hold of hinj."
" By heavens ! " cried Reginald, " I never
can sufficiently admire the quickness, and the
heroic courage of that hoy, Wingenund ! Did
you see, Baptiste, how he drew that great
knife slowly out of his wounded arm ; and how
all. the time he smiled upon War-Eagle, as
if to show him that he despised the pain ?"
" He is a brave youth," said the guide. " I
know the stock he comes from : if he were a
coward, the grisly bear might breed sheep ! "
" Pray tell me something of his parents,
and of his story. Is he related to War-
Eagle?"
" He is," said the guide. " They are the
children of two brothers. War-Eagle of the
eldest ; Wingenund of the youngest."
" Are these two brothers alive, Baptiste?'*
" No : both were murdered by the white
men, in time of peace, without provocation.
There was a third brother, who, happening
to be absent from the village on a hunt, es-
caped. He has now gone to the far-west.
126 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
beyond the great river. Both the War-Eagle
and the boy are called his sons ; and the latter,
as he told us to-day, lives in his lodge."
" Then all these three brothers were the
children of Wingenund ?"
« Yes."
" And who was he?"
" One of the old Lenape : — first in council,
and foremost in the fight ! I remember him
well when I was a boy," said the guide, warm-
ing with his subject. " He taught me to fol-
low a trail, and to travel in the woods, with
no other guide than the wind, the stars, and
the bark of the trees; and before I was as
old as that boy, his grandson, he lent me his
rifle to shoot the first Dacotah as ever I
killed."
" What was the party, Baptiste?*" said Re-
ginald, (anxious to keep the guide from the
subject of the Dacotahs,) " what party was it
that committed the atrocious murder upon the
Indians in time of peace ?"
" Why, Master Reginald, though you were
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
127
but a youngster, don't you remember hearing
that twelve or fourteen years ago, a party of
white men, led by Williamson, Harvey, and
some other rough chaps from the Kentucky
side, fell upon a village of friendly Indians on
the banks of Tuscarawas river, and murdered
all they found, man, woman, and child ? Some
of these poor Redskins had been made Chris-
tians, and were called Moravians; and their
village as was destroyed, was called by some
outlandish name, too long by half for me to
speak or to remember.* They had given over
their own nat'ral life of smoking, hunting, and
fighting, and did not.ing biv plant, and sow,
and pray ! And, after all, that 's the way
they was served. Master Reginald !*"
"Horrible and disgraceful cruelty!" said
the young man : and rather thinking aloud,
than addressing his companion, he added, " It
is no wonder that the Indians should receive
so unwillingly Christian precepts, when they
* Tlic vilkgc was called Gnaden-Hiitten — " tents," or
" cabins of grace,"
Tnir
r
128
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
have such examples of Christian practice. I
am not surprised that War-Eagle should find
it hard to forgive such injuries.""
" And yet you are surprised, Master Re-
ginald," said the guide, in a deep voice, almost
hoarse from repressed emotion, " that / do
not forgive the Dacotah? Did he not burn
the log-hut where I was born and raised ?
DiJ he not murder those who gave me birth?
Did he not drive me out, a child, into the
woods, to live by berries, or wild fruits, or
what I could find or kill ? Is not my father's
scalp (not half revenged !) now hanging beforf^
a Dacotah lodge ! Oh ! let me come but with-
in rifle range of the Throat-cutter,* and if he
comes off" with a whole skin, I will forgive
him!"
Our hero, seeing that further discussion
would only increase an excitement which al-
ready mastered his companion's self-control,
* Every Indian tribe has its peculiar mark, or sign ;
p.mong all the nations of -he far-weyt, the Sioux, or Daco-
tahs, are designat'.d by passing the hand across the throat,
as if cutting it.
m
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
129
said to him kindly, " Well, Baptiste, it must be
owned that you have received from these people
deep, irreparable v r^ong ! You are a man, and
would not pay them in their own base coin,
by killing one of their squaws or children :
but if it is ever your fortune to meet them
in a fair stand-up fight, when I am w^ith you,
then you shall see that I can stand by a friend,
and share in his just feelings of resentment."
" I know it — I know it. Master Reginald,"
said the guide, grasping the hand extended
to him ; and having now recovered an equa-
nimity which nothing but the Dacotah subject
ever disturbed, he added,
" If you and I wer*» to take a sun^mer-hunt
towards the mountains, with that hght-limbed
War-Eagle, who has the eyes, and ears, and
spring of a painter,* we might p'raps bring in
a handsome load o' skins, and may be, pay oiF
the Throat-cutters an old debt or two."
" It is more likely than you imagine, Bap-
tiste, that we should make an excursion to the
West, this spring; for my 'ither told lae the
* A Panther is so called by the western hunters.
o
hAi
130
THE TRAIRIE-BIRD.
other day — but see, there he is, with Lucy on
his arm, and Aunt Mary, and Wolf by her
side!"
As he said this, the young man bounded for-
ward, and in a moment was in the midst of
them, kissing his sister, shaking his father and
Aunt Mary aifectionately by the hand, and pat-
ting Wolfs great shaggy head.
" Dear Reginald ! what has kept you o
long?" said Lucy, reproachfully; "where can
you have been? Why, your clothes are all
soiled ; and see, papa," she added, turning
deadly pale ; " there is blood upon his hunting-
shirt and upon his cheek !'*
" What a little coward art thou," said Regi-
nald, " to be the daughter of a soldiei ! Why,
Lucy, the few drops of blood upon my clothes
Tiust surely have come from your cheeks, which
lire as pale as a magnolia flower ! Harkee,
Lucy, I must do something to drive the rosy
current back to its proper channel ; come here,
girl : " and bending her head aside, he whis-
pered something in her ear.
Never was the eflfect of magic more rapid,
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
131
or more potent; for in an instant the obedient
blood rushed to the fair girl's cheek, suffusing
at the same time her neck and temples with the
same glowing hue ; casting upon her brother a
look at once playful and appealing, she pinched
his ear between her tiny fingers till he fairly
begged pardon, and promised not to do so again.
As it was now evident that Reginald was not
much hurt, Lucy turned her eyes towards the
hunter, who approached, leading Nekimi still
snorting, prancing, and curvetting at the full
length of his laryette. " Baptiste," said the
Colonel, " where hav3 you found that wild, un-
tamed animal ? "
" He belongs," said the hunter, " to Master
Reginald."
The Colonel looked to his son for an explana-
tion, who giving an arm to his sister, while
the Colonel escorted Aunt Mary, turned home-
wards, and narrated, as they went, the events
described in this and the foregoing chapter.
w
'
132
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
CHAPTER VIII.
ONTAINING A SKETCH OF MOOSHANNE. — REGINALD INTRO-
DUCES HIS SISTER TO THE TWO DELAWARES.
The day following that on which the events
related in the preceding pages occurred, there
was an assemblage more than usually nume-
rous, gathered in and around the capacious
store of David Muir, in Marietta : immediately
in front of his door was a small party, who, from
their bearing and appearance, might be easily
recognised as leading persons in the little com-
munity. In the midst of them was a roughly-
dressed country lad, whose haggard appearance
indicated wretchedness or fatigue, or both ; near
the groupe, stood his' horse reeking with sweat,
and showing that the messenger, for such he
was, had not spared the spurs on the road.
Many and eager were the questions put to him,
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
133
and the countenances of his auditors evinced
no ordinary degree of interest in his replies;
several women, and a dozen or two of boys and
girls, made repeated endeavours to penetrate
into this important circle ; and having contrived
to overhear a disjointed word, here and there,
such as "Indian," "scalped," "rifle," &c., they
slunk away, one by one, to spread it abroad
through the village, that a neighbouring settle-
ment had been attacked by a large body of In-
dians, armed with rifles and tomahawks; and
that every man, woman, and child, excepting
this messenger, who had escaped, was scalped !
We will, however, introduce the reader into
the centre of th-; above-mentioned groupe, and
detail to him the substance of the news which
created so much excitement.
It appears that on the preceding day, two
brothers, named Hervey, were riding home-
ward, after attending a marriage, at a small
settlement twenty miles to the northward of
Marietta: they were not above half a mile in
advance of several other men, also returning
from the marriage; both were armed with rifles,
^
*llr
134
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
having been shooting at a target for a wager,
when on a sudden, a single Indian, uttering a
loud war-whoop, sprang from a thicket by the
road, and at one stroke of his war-club felled
the elder brother to the earth ; before the se-
cond could come up to his assistance, the same
Indian aimed a sweeping blow at his head with
the but-end of his rifle ; the younger Her-
vey warded the blow also with his rifle, but it
fell with such force that both barrels were
broken off^ from the stocks ; with the rapidity
of lightning, the Indian struck him heavily on
the head, and he fell stunned from his horse.
A few minutes afterwards, he recovered, and
found some of his friends standing over him;
his unfortunate brother lay dead and scalped
at his side ; his horse and the Indian had dis-
appeared. Several young men dashed off^ im-
mediately in pursuit, and tracked the hoofs
successfully until the fugitive had entered the
hardy and stony bed of a rivulet falling into
the Muskingum ; hence all further search
proved unsuccessful, and they returned dis-
pirited to their companions.
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
135
It was long since so daring an outrage had
been committed in the Territory; seldom was
it that the Redskins would attack white men in
open day, unless they were greatly superior in
numbers ; but for a single Indian to fall upon
two armed whites, killing one and leaving the
other-for dead, almost within call of his friends,
was an instance of audacitv to which the oldest
hunter could scarcely remember a parallel; it
was evident also that the savage had been aware
of a party of whites being at hand, otherwise
he would certainly have shot one brother be-
fore he attacked the other; but, avoiding the
discharge of his rifle, he had effected his pur-
pose with a war-club.
Another striking circumstance was the clear
evidence afibrded that the killing of the elder
Hervey was an act of personal revenge ; because
the younger brother when knocked from his
horse had fallen helpless at the Indian's feet;
and the latter, purposely to shew that he had
spared his life and scalp, had struck a knife
through the lappet of his coat into the ground,
with force enough to bury it up to the haft.
I
f':
i' '■ :
l-i:-.^
ijN
136 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
Four or five of the best hunters had recom-
menced the pursuit; and although they once
struck the trail of a man on foot evidently run-
ning from them, they were again baffled by the
river, and returned to the settlement.
Such was the sum of the messenger's intelli-
gence, which caused, as can easily be imagined,
no little sensation in Marietta and the neigh-
bouring districts.
" I know some of the worst o' thepi Red-
skin devils," said a bulky young man, whose
countenance betrayed violent passions, and
strong symptoms of free indulgence in David
Muir's " fire-water;" ^' tell me what was this
Ingian like? — how did Dick Hervey describe
him?"
" He hadn't over much time to look at him,"
said the messenger, " afore he was sent to sleep ;
but he says he was a very tall powerful chap,
streaked over the face with black."
" Was he a young un or an old un?"
" A young un, and active as a deer, or he
couldn't have knocked those two Hervevs off
I
'''I!
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
137
their critturs, as a man knocks off a corncob
with an ash plant."
" I wish I had him here," said the young
giant, shutting a hand as heavy and large as a
shoulder of mutton. " I 'd give him a real
Kentucky hug."
None of the bystanders seemed able to form
any guess as to who the perpetrator of this bold
outrage might be ; it was resolved, however, to
take all possible measures for his discovery:
a meeting of the principal inhabitants was con-
vened, a description of the Indian's person, and
of the marks by which Hervey's horse might
be recognised, was written, and several copies
thereof made, and forwarded to the nearest
posts and ferries ; at the same time a reward of
a hundred dollars was offered to any person
who should discover the offender, and a hundred
more for his seizure, dead or alive.
During the discussion of these and other
plans at the meeting, our old acquaintance
David Muir, who felt himself not to be one of
the least important persons present, said, " I 'm
mm
138
THE rRAIRIE-niRD.
Hi
thinking, gentlemen, it would be as weel to
send a messenger out to Colonel Brandon, wi'
this intelligence ; he kens the Indians as weel "s
ony man in this country-side, mayhap he '11 gie
us some gude counsel ; and sirs," added David,
his grey eyes twinkling at his own sagacity,
" be sure ye dinna forget to tak the advice o'
yon lang-headed chiel, Battiste; if the Indian
deevil's o' this side the Mississippi, Battiste
will fin^ him out, as sure as twa threes mak
sax."
This was one of the longest orations which
David had ever delivered in public; and both
his suggestions being approved, carried nem.
con.^ and the meeting dissolved, David returned
to his store with his hands thrust into his coat-
tail pockets, and his countenance big with the
consciousness of having rendered essential ser-
vice to the Territory.
We must now return to Reginald, who, on
the morning of this same day, rose with the
sun ; and feeling himself nothing the worse
from his slight wounds, or from his diving ad-
venture, sallied forth to see how Baptiste had
'I'l:
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
139
provided for Nekimi's safety and comfort. All
means having failed to entice him into a stable,
the hunter had secured him firmly to an oak,
casting down for him abundance both of food
and litter. Reginald approached him, holding
in his hand some bread ; and having given the
sharp shrill cry (which to Lucy's great alarm
he had practised more than once in the house)
he was agreeably surprised to perceive that the
horse recognised it, and seemed less averse to
his caresses; having fed him, and carefully ob-
served all the rulds laid down by War-Eagle for
gaining his affections, he returned to the house,
and began l; collect the various articles which
he proposed to give to his Indian brother;
among these v/as a good Kentucky rifle, and a
handsomfe buck's-horn knife for the chief; he
selected also a light fowling-piece, which he
had used as a boy, and which he intended for
Wingenund ; to these he added several pounds
of powder, and a due proportion of lead ; he also
threw into the package a few beads and a large
cornelian ring, which had been long the occu-
pant of his dressing-case.
140
THE TRAIRIE-BIRD.
When he had collected all these together he
gave them to Baptlste, desiring him to be ready
to accompany him to the rendezvous after
breakfast ; and having finished his preparations,
he knocked at the door of Lucy's room, to in-
quire whether she was ready to preside at the
morning meal.
"Come in, Reginald," she said; "if I am
rather late it is your fault; for your adventures
of yesterday have driven sleep from my pillow ;
and even when I did fall asleep, I dream ♦ '
nothing but your Indian hero."
" Say you so, faithless one ? " replied Regi-
nald ; " I shall tell that to "
" Hush now, Reginald," said the blushing
girl, putting her little hand upon his mouth;
" did you not promise me yesterday that you
would not do so again?"
" Perhaps I did," said her brother ; " and I
will keep it if you will come down stairs and
give me a very good cup of coffee."
In the breakfast-room they were joined by
the Colonel and Aunt Mary; and while they
discuss that most comfortable of family meals.
THE PRAIRIE DIRD.
141
)U
I
id
>y
^y
we will give the reader a slight sketch of the
house in which they were assembled.
It was built of substantial brick of a dun red
colour, and had originally been a regular and
solid building of moderate dimensions ; but the
Colonel had added on one side a wing, contain-
ing a library and sitting-rooms for himself and
his son, while on the opposite side he had built
additional apartments for Aunt Mary, and a
small conservatory for Lucy. Thus he build-
ing had gradually assumed a straggling and
irregular shape, the back court being occupied
by stables, barns, and extensive farm-offices.
The site of the house was on a gentle elevation,
sloping down to a little brook, which wound its
bubbling way through a deep grove of oak,
maple, and sycamore, and circling round the
base of the hill, fell at the distance of half a
mile into the Muskingum river. The spot still
retained the name of " Mooshanne" (signifying
in the Delaware language Elk Creek) probably
owing to the little streamlet above-mentioned
having been a favourite resort of an animal
which the rifles of Reginald and Baptiste had
1
■HP
142
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
rendered somewhat scarce in the neighbour-
hood.
We left the family assembled at the break-
fast-table, where the conversation still turned
upon the adventures of the preceding day.
" Reginald," said L.ucy, " I should like to
go with you to-day, to see your Indian brother^
and that heroic boy."
" I fear," replied her brother, " it is farther
than you could easily walk; and, moreover,
Wingenund will scarcely accompany his chief;
he must be still too weak from his wound."
" >Jay, Reginald ; if the distance is the only
difficulty, I can ride Snowdrop ; and if Winge-
nund does come, I will reward him for his
brave defence of my brother, by giving him
some little trinket, which he may take back
to his sister. You cannot refuse me now,"
added she, in a coaxing tone, the power of
which over her brother was all but despotic.
" Of course I cannot, if you obtain Aunt
Mary's and the Colonel's permission," said Re
ginald, smiling.
Lucy met with no further opposition. Snow-
, THE PRa RIE-BIRD. 143
drop was ordered to be saddled; in a few
minutes the happy girl was equipped, and
provided with a coral necklace for the chief,
and a pretty broach, destined for her brother's
preserver.
The party now assembled before the door,
consisting of Reginald, Baptiste, and Lucy,
mounted on her favourite grey pony : our
hero slung his rifle across his shoulders ; the
sturdy woodsman, besides carrying his own
enormous axe, walked lightly under the two
rifles, and the other articles to be presented
to the chief, and Wolf played around them his
fantastic and unwieldy gambols.
Cheerful and smiUng was the woodland
scenery through which they passed; the dew-
drops still glittered in the beams of the morn-
ing sun, and the air was impregnated with the
vernal fragrance arising from a thousand open-
ing buds and blossoms.
" See, Lucy," said her brother, as he walked
by her side, while the tact of the stu.dy hunter
kept him a few paces in the rear, " see how
those mischievous squirrels hop and chatter
144
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
upon the boughs ! They seem to know that
your presence is a protection to them."
" I often wonder, Reginald, how you can
shoot such playful and graceful animals; you
who have taste enough to admire their beauty,
and who can find sport more worthy of your
rifle."
" It is childish sport, Lucy ; yet they are no
contemptible additions to the table, their furs
are useful, and there is some skill in shooting
them, — that is, in shooting them properly.*'
" If I were a man, I would shoot nothing
but lions and tigers, buffaloes or bears ! " said
his sister.
" A pretty Amazon, truly ! " said Reginald,
laughing : " yet, methinks, your thoughts are
not always so warlike. Come, Lucy, now that
we are alone (for our good Baptiste is out
of ear-shot), you need not pout or blush if I
ask you whether Ethelston is expected soon
to return ?"
" Indeed, I know not, Reginald," said his
sister, blushing in spite of his prohibition.
" His last letter to the Colonel mentioned
■
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
145
somethi^g about privateers, and the rupture
with France. Papa did not appear desirous
of communicating much upon the subject, so
I dropt it."
" True," said Reginald ; " the French will
not soon forget or forgive the loss of their
fine frigate, the Insurgent, which was taken
the other day so gallantly by the Constellation.
1 doubt not they will endeavour to cripple
our trade in the West Indies. Edward has
got a little craft that can run if she cannot
fight."
" I am sure Edward will never run if it
is possible to fight," said Lucy, a little piqued.
"There, again, you speak ♦' ^ truth: it is
because his courage is so teuij Ted by his
judgment, that he is fit to be entrusted vith
other lives and property than his own: if it
is not possible to fight, he will have sense and
skill enough to show the Frenchman his
heels. — By-the-by, Lucy, which vessel is he
now commanding?"
Again there was a decided blush, and almost
a pout on Lucy's full lip, as she said, " You
VOL. I. H .
146
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
know, brother, that the * Adventure,' and the
' Poeahuntas,' are both in port, and the vessel
he is now on board of is the — " .
— " Oh ! I remember," said Reginald, laugh-
ing ; " she was to have been called the * Lucy ;'
but Edward did not choose to hear that name
in every common sailor's and negro's mouth ;
so he altered it to the * Pride of Ohio,' which
means in his vocabulary the same thing."
" I wish,"" said Lucy, " there was any Mary,
or Charlotte, or Catherine, or any other name
under the sun, about which I could tease you !
Have a little patience, Mr. Reginald ; my
turn will come : you shall see what mercy I
will show you then !"
Thus did the brother and sister spar and
jest with each other until they reached the
spot appointed for the interview. As they
had ari'ived rather before the time, they ima-
gined that the War-Eagle had not yet come;
but Baptiste, putting his finger to his mouth,
blew a long shrill signal -whistle, and in a
few minutes the chief appeared, accompanied
by Wingenund. As they emerged from the
i'ibfl
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 147
forest, and approached, Reginald looked at his
sister to see the effect produced by their ap-
pearance ; for the chief was dressed in a manner
calculated to display his noble figure and coun-
tenance to better advantage than on the pre-
ceding day. His long black hair was parted
on his forehead, and gathered into a mass,
confined by a narrow fillet made from the fur
of the white weasel, and surmounted by an
Eagle's feather. It seemed that his vow of
war and revenge was for the time cancelled ;
for the lines of black paint which had disfigured
his visage were removed, and the command-
ing form and features were not marred by any
grotesque or fanciful attire. His brawny neck
was bare, and a portion of his bold, open chest
appeared beneath the light hunting shirt, which
was his only upper vesture. The ponderous
war-club was still at his girdle, but the scalp
had disappeared ; and his light, free step upon
the grass was like that of a young elk on a
prairie.
The dress of Wingenund was unaltered.
He was still very weak from the loss of blood,
H 2
148
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
lil'l
and the pain consequent upon his wound; his
arm rested in a sling, made from the plaited
bark of elm ; and the air of languor cast over
his countenance by sleeplessness and suffering,
gave additional effect to the delicacy of his
features, and the deep dark lustre of his eyes.
" Our new brother is indeed a fine-looking
creature !'* said Lucy, as War-Eagle drew near.
*' What a haughty step and bearing he has !
Wingenund looks too gentle to be an Indian !^
" He is as brave as gentle, Lucy : look at
his arm ! " and, as she did look at the wounded
limb, she remembered that only yesterday it
had saved her brother's life. ■ f
The greeting between Reginald and the
two Indians was affectionate and cordial; he
then presented his sister to them both in turn.
The chieftain, placing bis hand upon his heart,
fixed upon her that penetrating look with
which he had before scrutinized her brother;
it was not the bold stare of vulgarity admiring
beauty, but the child of nature reading after
his own fashion a page in her book.
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
149
" War-Eagle," said Lucy to him, in her
own gentle tone of voice, *• I know all that
passed yesterday, and you are now my bro-
ther!"
As she pronounced his name in English, a
gleam shot from his eye, and a perceptible and
sudden change came over his countenance; it
seemed produced by some unexpected assor
ciation; and Lucy was surprised at the deep
pathos of his voice, as he replied, " The Great
Spirit has made the sun to shine upon my
white brother's path ! His heart is brave ;
his arm is strong ; and his sister is like a flower
of the prairie ! — her voice comes upon the
ear like a pleasant dream !" These last words
he spoke rather to himself than addressing
those around him.
Lucy was not displeased with the Indian's
compliment, and was about to speak to Win-
genund, when Reginald said aloud, " Come,
let us withdraw among those thick trees; we
have many things to talk about."" His proposal
being assented to, the whole party were soon
"M
150
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
reassembled under a branching oak, screened
from the public track by a thicket of rhodo-
dendron.
While they were effecting this manoeuvre,
the guide took an opportunity of interchanging
a few sentences with the War- Eagle ; the result
of which was apparently satisfactory to the
honest woodsman, for his face instantly resumed
its usual frank and careless expression.
" Lucy," said her brother, " as you have
thought proper to accompany me here, you
must play your part as Queen of the Feast.
I hope my brothers will value these baubles
more from your hands than from mine." Thus
instructed, Lucy opened the canvass package,
which the guide had hitherto carried, and pre-
senting the large rifle to the chief, she said
to him,
" War-Eagle, your brother and your white
sister give you this rifle, as a mark of their
friendship ; and with it they give you powder
and lead enough to shoot all the deer and
bears in the territory."
The chief placed her hand and her brother's
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
161
both upon his heart, saying, " War-Eagle
thanks you. May the Great Spirit love you
and guard your path ! "
He then poised and examined the rifle,
which was a piece of no ordinary beauty and
excellence, while Baptiste whispered to him,
in his own language, *' It is loaded."
Lucy then turned to Wingenund, and pre-
senting him with the lighter fowling-piece,
said to him, " With this, a sister thanks Win-
genund for a brother's life."
The boy cast his eyes modestly to the
ground, saying, " Wingenund is too happy.
War-Eagle will tell his name to the braves
in council. The sister of Netis is good to
him ; Wingenund is ready to die ! "
" Indeed," said Lucy to the guide, " I fear
he is very faint and ill ; ask the chief how he
passed the night !"
" Wingenund is not ill," said the boy, with a
smile ; " he is very happy."
Meanwhile, Baptiste having conferred with
the chief, replied, " Why, Miss Lucy, the
wound was a very bad 'un, and he lost a power
SI
t ■ 1
■
152
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
o'blood ; once or twice in the night, War-Eagle
thought he might not get over it; but he is
better now, and though unable to bear much
fatigue, he's a hardy young plant, and will take
as much killing as an eel."
" Come, Baptiste," said Reginald ; •• I know
you put something to eat and drink into that
sack with the ammunition : War- Eagle must
feast with us to-day."
The guide, opening his capacious wallet,
drew from it a venison pasty, some bread, and
a couple of bottles of Madeira. Lucy declined
taking more than a crust of bread, merely
tasting the wine to the health of the hunters.
Wingenund was equally abstemious, and sat a
little apart with his new sister; while Reginald,
Baptiste, and the chief made a more substan-
tial luncheon. The latter being asked, by
Reginald, how he liked the wine, replied, care-
lessly, " Good." But it was evident that he
drank it rather from courtesy than l^ecause it
pleased his palate.
Reginald now desired the guide to speak to
the War-Eagle in his own tongue, and to gather
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
153
from him all the requisite particulars for his
j )ining the Delawares in their summer-hunt
beyond the Mississippi. He had long been
anxious to visit some of those scenes which
Baptiste had so often described ; and his father
having expressed a wish that he should go to
St. Louis on some business connected with his
investments in the fur-trade, he thought that
80 fair an opportunity ought not to be lost.
While the guide and the chief conversed in
a low and earnest tone of voice, and Reginald
listened with an idle curiosity, imagining now
and then that he could catch their meaning,
Lucy became much interested in her conversa-
tion with Wingenund ; she was surprised at his
intelhgence and proficiency in English, and was
touched by the melancholy expression of his
countenance and of his deep lustrous eyes. As
she was speaking, he suddenly and impressively
placed his finger on her arm, then raised it to
his own lips, as a sign to her to be silent, then
creeping two or three yards from the party, he
threw himself at full length on the grass with
his ear to the ground. Lucy listened atten-
h5
/
154
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
lively, but could hear nothing but the gentle
breeze stirring the leaves, and the regular
sound of Snowdrop's teeth as he nibbled the
young grass.
The three hunters were still busy with their
arrangements for the summer, when Winge-
nund, resuming his sitting posture, uttered an
almost imperceptible sound, like the hiss of a
small serpent; instantly, as if uy instinct, the
War-Eagle grasped his rifle, and looked in-
quiringly on the intelligent countenance of the
boy.
" Wingenund hears men and horses," was the
short reply.
Baptiste strained his practised ears to the ut-
most, as did Reginald, without success. Even
War- Eagle seemed for a moment unable to
catch the sound — he then whispered to Regi-
nald, " Wingenund speaks truth, there are men
— not a few."
Several minutes elapsed before our hero and
the guide could distinguish the tramp of horses
and the voices of men speaking angrily.
Our hero and his party being effectually
ip
THE PR^IRIE-BIRD.
155
screened from view by the dense laurel* thicket,
could listen unobserved to the conversation of
those who were approaching ; and the following
expressions, delivered in a loud and authorita-
tive tone, at once attracted and absorbed their
attention : " It is impossible that the fellow
should escape, we have scouts out in every
direction. There can be no doubt that the
camp which we have just found in the woods
is the one where he passed the night with
other Redskins, for the embers are still warm.
Dickenson and Brown are gone south towards
Marietta ; Henderson and his party are tracking
the prairies to the north; it is impossible he
should long escape; and young Hervey thinks
he should know him anywhere ! "
While the person who appeared to be the
leader of the unseen party was thus speaking,
War-Eagle whispered a few sentences to Winge-
nund, io which the intelligent youth only re-
plied by a look ; the chief then conversed apart,
in a low earnest voice, with the guide, who
• In the Western States, the rhododendron is generally
called the laurel.
156
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
"'
}m
ended by grasping his hand, and saying, in the
Delaware tongue, " Grande- Hache will do it at
the risk of his I'fe."
The chief appeared satisfied, and rising with
calm dignity, he tightened the belt at his waist,
to which he hung his newly-acquired knife and
ammunition ; and throwing his rifle into the
hollow of his left arm, he said to Reginald,
" War- Eagle must leave his brother Netis ;
Grande- Hache will tell him all; before two
moons have passed, Netis will come to hunt
the bison with his brother ; and he shall smoke
with the braves of the Lenape."
"He will," replied Reginald, warmly press-
ing his hand, and at the same time passing the
cornelian ring upon one of the fingers of the
chief. " If the Great Spirit gives him life, he
will come and hunt, and smoke with his Lenape
brother."
The chief, now turning to Lucy, drew from
his head the Eagle feather which was passed
through his hair, and which was quaintly
stained, and ornamented with porcupine quills;
offering it gracefully to her, he said, in a voice
mi
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 157
of musical gentleness, " War- Eagle wishes hap-
piness to the 'pale flower of Mooshanne ;'
many braves have tried to pluck this feather
from his head; no Dacotah nor Pawnee has
touched it and lived I The sister of Netis may
fasten it in her hair— let none but a brave
warrior raise his eyes to it there."
"Thank you, dear War-Eagle," said Lucy,
kindly, "I promise you it shall never be touched
by an unworthy hand; and do you take this
string of red beads," giving him at the same
time a coral necklace, "and wear it for the
sake of your white sister."
The chief received this gift with evident
pleasure ; and waving his hand in adieu, whis-
pering at the same time one parting word to
Wingenund, he strode leisurely away, and was
soon lost in the deep glades of the forest.
f MP
158
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
III! I'M
|ll;:l:S'
lulv'
CHAPTER IX.
HOW REGINALD BRANDON RETURNED TO MOOSHANNE WITH
HIS SISTER,- ACCOMPANIED BY WINGENUSDJ AND WHAT
BEFEL THEM ON THE ROAD.
Lucy Brandon was not a little surprised at
the chiefs sudden departure, arid with the
frankness natural to her character, inquired of
her brother whether he could explain its cause;
Reginald appeared either unable or unwilling
to do so ; and an appeal to the guide produced
only the following unsatisfactory rep ly :
" War-Eagle is like the bird after which he 's
called — it aint easy to explain or to follow his
flight."
Wingenund remained silent, but every now
and then he fixed his bright and speaking eyes
upon Lucy, as if he would divine her thoughts.
That young lady, though at a loss to account
for her embarrassment, entertained a fear that
■."■^li
i ' [I
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
159
all was not right, and proposed to her brother
to return to Mooshanne.
Snowdrop was soon caught, and the little
party moved leisurely homeward, Reginald and
the guide leading the way, and Wingenund
walking by the side of Lucy's pony ; after
riding a few minutes, she recovered her spirits,
and remembering that there was no foundation
for any surmises of evil, she resumed the con-
versation with her young companion, which the
chiefs departure had interrupted. "Tell me,
Wingenund, who is the ' Black Father,' of
whom you speak ? "
" He is very good," said the boy, seriously ;
" He talks with the Great Spirit ; and he tells
us all that the Great Spirit has done; how
He made the earth, and the water; and how
He punishes bad men, and makes good men
happy."
" He is a white man, then ? " said Lucy.
" He is," replied the lad ; " but though he
is a white man, he always speaks truth, and
does good, and drinks no fire-water, and is
never angry."
160
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
;i I
What a humiliating reflection is it, thought
Lucy to herself, that in the mind of this young
savage, the idea of white men is naturally asso-
ciated with drunkenness and strife ! " Tell me,
Wingenund,"" she continued, " is the ' Black
Father' old?"
" Many winters have passed over his head,
and their snow rests upon his hair."
" Does he live with you always?"
" He comes and he goes, like the sunshine
and the rain; he is always welcome; and the
Lenape love him."
"Can he speak your tongue well P"
" He speaks many tongues, and tries to make
peace between the tribes, but he loves the Le-
nap6, and he teaches 'the Prairie- bird' to talk
with the Great Spirit."
" Does your sister speak to the Black Father
in her own tongue?"
" Sometimes, and sometimes in the English ;
but often in a strange tongue, written on a great
book. The Black Father reads it, and the
Prairie-bird opens her ears, and looks on his
face, and loves his words ; and then she tells
T!
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
161
them all to me. But Wingenund is a child
of the Lenap6 — he cannot understand these
things!"
" You will understand them," said Lucj',
kindly, " if you only have patience ; you know,""
she added, smiling, "your sister understands
them, and she is a Lenape too !'^
" Yes," said the boy ; " but nobody is like
Prairie-bird."
" She must, indeed, be a remarkable person,"
said Lucy, humouring her young companion's
fancy; still, as you have the same father and
mother, and the same blood, whatever she
learns, you can learn too."
"I have no father or mother," said Winge-
nund, sadly, and he added, in a mysterious
whisper, drawing near to Lucy, " Prairie-bird
never had a father or mother."
" Never had a father or mother !" repeated
Lucy, as the painful thought occurred to her,
that poor Wingenund was deranged.
*' Never," said the boy, in the same tone ;
" she came from there" pointing, as he spoke,
towards the northwest quarter of the heaven.
162
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
I !
" How melancholy is it," said Lucy to her-
self, '< to think that this brave, amiable boy
should be so afflicted ! that so intelligent and
quick a mind should be like a lyre with a
broken string ! Still," thought she, " I will
endeavour to understand his meaning, and to
undeceive him."
" Dear Wingenund, you are mistaken — your
sister had the same father and mother as your-
self; she may have learnt much, and may un-
derstand things strange to you, but you might
learn them too."
" Wingenund's father and mother are dead,"
said the boy, in a voice of deep and suppressed
emotion ; " he will not tell you how they died,
for it makes his heart throb and his eyes burn ;
but you are good to him, and shall not see his
anger. Prairie-bird never had a father; the
Great Spirit gave her to the Lenape."
While Lucy was musing how she should en-
deavour to dispel this strange delusion which
seemed to have taken such firm hold of her
young companion's mind, Reginald and Bap-
tiste halted, and the latter said, " You see that
"■^1
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
163
party approaching; they may put some trou-
blesome questions, leave me to answer them.
Wingenund, you know what I mean ?"
" Wingenund does not understand EngUsh,"
said the boy, a slight smile of irony lurking in
the corner of his mouth.
The approaching party consisted of eight or
ten men, all armed with rifles, excepting two,
who were mounted, and who carried cutlasses
and large horse-pistols; among the pedestrians
towered the gigantic form of young Mike Smith,
who has already been presented to the reader be-
fore the store of David Muir, in Marietta ; and
among the horsemen was the younger Hervey,
leading his friends to scour the whole country
in search of the slayer of his brother; they
were all in a high state of excitement; and
despite the cool and unmoved demeanour of
the guide, he was not without apprehension
that they might desire to wreak their vengeance
on Wingenund.
" Ha ! Baptiste," said Hervey, grasping the
guide's hand ; " you are the very man we are
in search of; we have already been to the
i 'y
164 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
coloners, and he told us we should find you
with his son, and with Miss Brandon, in this
quarter. We want your assistance, man, and
that speedily, too."
"How can I serve you?" said the guide;
" what is the matter ? you seem bent on a
hunt"
" A hunt?" exclaimed Hervey, " yes, a hunt
of a Red-skin devil! Harkee, Baptistel" and
stooping from his horse, he repeated to the
,guide in a low voice, but clear enough to be
heard by all present, the circumstances attend-
ing his brother's death.
" A daring act, indeed," said the guide
musing ; " but could not you follow the trail
while it was fresh yesterday?"
" We followed it to a creek leading to the
Muskingum, and there we lost it." '
" Can you describe the appearance of the
Indian?" inquired the guide.
" A tall, handsome fellow, as straight as a
poplar, and with a leap like a painter, so he
seemed; but d — n him, he gave me such a
'm%l
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
165
knock on the head, that my eyes swam for five
minutes."
A cold shudder ran through Lucy's limbs as,
comparing this slight sketch of War-Eagle with
his sudden departure and the guide's caution to
Wingenund, she recognised in the chief the
object of their search : glancing her eye timidly
at Wingenund, she could read on his counte-
nance no trace of uneasiness; he was playing
with Snowdrop's mane; his gun resting on the
ground, and he himself apparently unconscious
of what was passing.
After a minute's reflection, the guide con-
tinued : " You say that the Indian's rifle was
broken in half; did you notice anything about
it?"
" Nothing : it was a strong coarse piece ;
we have brought the stock with us; here
it is," he added, calling up one of his party to
whom it had been entrusted.
The guide took it in his hand, and at the
first glance detected the imitation of a feather,
roughly but distinctly cut with a knife ; his own
ill
u<\ ■
m
166
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
suspicions were at once confirmed, although his
countenance l)etrayed no change of expression ;
but Mike Smith, who had been looking over
his shoulder, had also observed the marks of
the feather, and noticed it immediately aloud,
adding, " Come, Baptiste, you know all the
Ingian marks between Alleghany and the Mis-
souri; what Red-skin hasthis belonged to?"
" Mike," said q guide coolly, " a man's
tongue must shoot far and true to hit such a
mark as that."
" And yet, Baptiste, if I'd been as long at
the guiding and trapping as you, I think I'd a'
know'd something about it."
" Ay, that's the way of it," replied Baptiste ;
" you young 'uns always think you can shave a
hog with a horn spoon ! I 'spose Master Mike
you can tell a buzzard from a mocking-bird ;
but if I was to show you a feather, and ask you
what buzzard it belonged to, the answer might
not be easy to find." ^
" YouVe an old fool," growled Mike angrily ;
and he added as his eye rested suddenly upon
Wingenund, " what cub is that standing by
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
167
Miss's white pony? we'll see if he knows this
mark. Come here, you devirs brat."
Not a muscle in the boy's face be Taycd his
consciousness that he was addressed.
" Come here, you young Redskin ! " shouted
Mike yet more angrily, *• or I'll sharpen your
movements with the point of my knife."
Reginald's fiery temper was ill calculated to
brook the young backwoods-man's coarse and
violent language; placing himself directly be-
tween him and Win^^nund, he said to the
former in a stern and determined tone, " Mas-
ter Smith, you forget yourself; that boy is one
of my company, and is not to be exposed either
to insult or injury."
" Here's a pretty coil about a young Red-
skin," said Mike, trying to conceal his anger
under a forced laugh ; " how do we know that
he ain't a brother or a son of the Ingian we're
in search of; s' blood, if we could find out
that he was, we 'd tar him, and burn him over a
slow fire ! "
" I tell you again," said Reginald, " that he
is guilty of no crime ; that he saved my life yes-
168
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
terday at the risk of his own, and that while I
live neither you no. any of your party shall
touch a hair of his head/'
Baptiste fearing the result of more angry
words, and moved by an appealing look from
Miss Brandon, now interposed, and laying
his hand on Smith's shoulder, said, " Come,
Master Mike, there is no use in threatening
the young Red-skin when you see that he does
not understand a word that you say; tell me
what you wish to inquire of him, and I will ask
him in his own tongue."
« His tongue be d— d," said Mike ; « I '11
wager a hat against a gallon of David Muir's
best, that the brat knows English as well as
you or I, although he seems to have nothing to
do but to count the tassels on the edge of his
shirt. I'll shew you without hurting him,"
he added in a lower tone, " that I 'm not far
wrong."
" You swear not to injure him?" said Regi-
nald, who overheard what passed.
" I do," said Mike ; " I only want to show
you that he can't make a fool of Mike Smith."
A
mnt]
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
1G9
Here he called up one of the men from the
rear; and having whispered something in his
ear, he said in a loud and distinct tone of voice,
" Jack, we have found out that this Indian cub
belongs to the party, one of whom murdered
poor Hervey. Life for life is the law of the
backwoods: do you step a little on one side;
I will count four, and when I come to the four,
split me the young rascal's head, either with a
bullet or with your axe.""
" For Heaven's sake, as you are men," ex-
claimed Lucy in an agony, " spare him ! "
" Peace, Miss Brandon," said Mike ; " your
brother will explain to you that it must be so."
The guide would fain have whispered a
word to the boy, but he was too closely
watched by Smith, and he was obliged to tr ist
to Wingenund's nerves and intelligence.
" Are you ready, Jack?" said Mike audibly.
" Yes !" and he counted slowly, pausing be-
tween each number : one — two — three ! At the
pronunciation of this last word Wingenund,
whose countenance had not betrayed by the
movement of a muscle, or by the expression of a
VOL. I. I
Hi
r.i
! ; };
' '^1
170
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
single feature the slightest interest in what was
passing, amused himself by patting the great
rough head which Wolf rubbed against his
hand, as if totally unconscious that the deadly
weapon was raised, and that the next word
from the hunter's lips was to be his death
warrant.
" D — n it, you are right after all, Baptiste,"
said Mike Smith ; " the brat certainly does not
understand us, or he'd have pricked his ears
when I came to number three; so, do you ask
him in his own lingo if he knows that mark
on the rifle-butt, and can tell us to what Red-
skin tribe it belongs?"
The guide now addressed a few words to
Wingenund in the Delaware tongue, while
Reginald and Lucy interchanged a glance of
wonder and admiration at the boy's sagacity
and courage.
" He tells me that he has seen this mark
before," said the guide.
" Has he?" replied Mike; "ask him whether
it is that of a Shawnee, or a Wyandot; of an
Iroquois or of a Delaware?"
After again conferring with Wingenund, the
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
171
guide muttered to himself, " this youngster
won't tell a lie to keep a bullet from his brain
or a halter from his neck ; I must act for him.
He added in a louder tone, " Mike, a word
with you: it is not unlikely that the Ingian
your 're in search of is the sanr.e who gave the
boy that wound, and who tried to kill Master
Reginald yesterday; if it is so, he wants no
more punishing ; he has his allowance already."
" How so?" said Mike.
" He is dead, man, — killed on the spot. Do
you and Hervey meet me here to-morrow an
hour before noon ; I will take you to the place
where the body is buried, and you shall judge
for yourselves whether it is that of the man you
seek."
" It 's a bargain," said Mike, " we '11 come
to the time ; now, lads, forward to Hervey's
Clearing. Let's have a merry supper to-night;
and to-morrow, if the guide shows us the car-
case of this rascal, why we can't hurt that
much ; but we '11 pay off a long score one day
OP other with some of the Red-skins. Sorry to
have kept you waitin' Miss, and hope we
haven't scared you," said the rough fellow,
I 2
172
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
making, as he drew off his party, an awkward
attempt at a parting bow to Lucy.
" That was a clever turn of Baptiste's," said
Reginald in a low voice to his sister; "he
has made them believe that the cowardly
knave who tried to stab me was the perpe-
trator of the daring outrage which they seek
to avenge I"
" And was it really War-Eagle?" said Lucy
with a slight shudder, " he who looks so noble
and so gentle, — was it he who did it?"
" I believe so," said Reginald.
" But is it not wrong in us to be friends
with him, and to aid his escape?"
" Indeed," replied her brother, " it admits
of doubt; let us ask the guide, he will speak
now without reserve;" and accordingly Regi-
nald repeated to Baptiste the question and his
sister's scruples.
" Why you see, miss," said the wary hunter,
" there is no proof that War-Eagle did it,
though I confess it was too bold a deed to have
been done by that dog of a Wyandot ; but I will
tell you, miss," he added, with increasing energy
and vehemence, "if the War- Eagle did it, you
w
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
173
will yourself, when you know all, confess that
he did it nobly, and that he deserves no punish-
ment from man. That elder Hervey was one of
the blood-thirsty band by whom the harmless
Christian Indians* were murdered; and it is be-
lieved that it was by his own hand that Winge-
nund's father fell; if War- Eagle revenged this
cruel murder, and yet spared the life of the
younger brother when lying helpless at his feet,
who shall dare to blame him, or move a foot in
his pursuit ? "
" He speaks the truth, Lucy," said her bro-
ther ; " according to the rules by which retalia-
tion is practised by mankind, War-Eagle would
have been justified in punishing with death
such an act of unprovoked atrocity; but it is a
dangerous subject to discuss: you had better
forget all you have heard about it ; and in ease
of further inquiries being made in your pre-
sence, imitate the happy unconsciousness latt-;.
displayed by Wingenund."
*' Come lime, my dear young brother," he
addud in a kindly tone, "and tell us, — did you
* Alluding again to the massacre of the Moravian Dela-
wares at " Onadcnlnitten."
1 Vh'
mp
174 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
really think that hot-headed chap was going to
shoot you when he counted number three?"
" No ! " said the boy with a scornful smile.
" And why not ? for he 's a violent and angry
man."
" He dared not," was the reply.
"How so?"
" He is a fool ! " said the boy in the same
scornful tone ; " a fool scarcely fit to frighten
the fawn of an antelope ! if he had touched me
or attempted to shoot me, Netis and Grande-
Hache would have killed him immediately,"
" You are right, my young brave," said Regi-
nald, " he dared not hurt you ; see, dear Lucy,"
he added apart to his sister, "what a ripe judg-
ment, what an heroic spirit, what nerves of iron,
are found in the slender frame of this wounded
boy, exhausted by fatigue and suffering ! "
" We will at least give him a hearty supper,"
said Lucy, " and an affectionate welcome to
our home."
Wingenund thanked her with his dark eyes,
and the little party proceeded leisurely, without
incident or interruption, to Mooshanne.
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
175
CHAPTER X.
IN WHICH THE READER IS UNCEREMONIOVSLY TRANSPORTED TO
ANOTHER ELEMENT IN COMPANY WITH ETHELSTON ; THE LAT-
TER IS LEFT IN A DISAGREEABLE PREDICAMENT.
■!li|l
It is time that we should now turn, our atten-
tion to Ethelston, who is much too important a
personage in our narrative to be so long neglec-
ted, and respecting whose safety Lucy began to
feel the jealous anxiety of love; for " The Pride
of Ohio" had been long expected in Marietta, and
several French frigates and corvettes were report-
ed to be cruizing among the West Indian Islands,
actively engaged in revenging upon American com-
merce the loss which they had sustained in the
Insurgente. We shall soon see that Lucy's alarm
was not altogether groundless, and that her lover's
prolonged absence was not without sufficient cause.
About a month preceding the occurrences detailed
in the laHt chapter, Ethelston, having landed his
merchandise in safety at Port Koyal, and having
3i h J ■
m
176
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
taken on board a small cargo of sugar and coffee,
prepared to return to New Orleans ; he had heard
of the French men of war cruising in the neigh-
bourhood, and prudently resolved to risk as little
as possible on this trip; he took therefore secu-
rities lor a great portion of the amount due to
him, which he left in the charge of the vessel's
consignees, and conveyed on board only a suffi-
cient cargo to put The Pride of Ohio in perfect
sailing trim, and to give her a fair chance of escape
in case she were chased by an enemy; his little
brig was well rigged and manned, and he felt con-
fident that few, if any, of the French cruisers
would match her for speed. His mate or sailing-
master was Gregson, a hardy weather-beaten old
sailor, who had served on board of every kind of
craft, from a man-of-war to a fishing-cobble, and
knew every headland, reef, and current in that
dangerous sea, as well as a Liverpool pilot knows
the banks and shoals in the mouth of the Mersey.
The Pride of Ohio mounted three guns : two eigh-
teen pound carronades, and one long nine pound-
er ; ten stout fellows and a black cook completed
her complement; the last-mentioned person de-
serves special notice, as he was a character strange-
ly formed by the alternations of fortune which he
had seen. A native of the interior of western
I
III
^w
Hfl
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
177
Africa, he had, in early life, been chosen on account
of his extraordinary strength and courage, a chief
of the Lucumi tribe to which he belonged; but
having been unfortunately made a prisoner, he
was taken down to the coast and sold to a slaver ;
thence he had been conveyed to some of the
Spanish Islands, and afterwards to Virginia, where
he htid come into the possession of Colonel Bran-
don, who finding him possessed of many good quali-
ties, and of a sagacity very rare among his country-
men, had offered him his liberty when he moved to
Ohio; but Cupid (for so was the negro called) had
grown so much attached to his master, that he
begged to be allowed to remain in his service, and
from one employment to another, had riovv become
cook and steward on board The Pride of Ohio.
In frame he was Herculean; and though he rarely
exerted his strength, he had shown on various
occasions that it was nearly, if not quite equal to
that of any other two men in the vessel. He
spoke but little, and was sullen and reserved in
his manners; but as he never disobeyed orders,
and never was guilty of aggression or violence,
Cupid was, upon the whole, a favourite with the
crew.
To Ethelston he was invaluable; for he was
always at his post, was scrupulously honest with
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178
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
respect to money or stores placed under his charge,
and on more than one occasion his shrewdness
and readiness had surprised his young comman-
der. The Captain (for so was Ethelston called
on board) always treated Cupid kindly, and never
allowed him to be made the subject of those jeers
and insults to which free negroes in the States
are usually exposed; on this account the cook,
who never forgot that he had been a warrior,
entertained towards him the warmest feelings of
attachment and gratitude.
How or where he had obtained the name he
bore, none seemed to know ; and Ethelston re-
membered having heard that when first he came
into Colonel Brandon's possession, and was asked
his name, he had sullenly replied, " ITie name I
once had is at home: a slave has neither name
nor home !" A terrible gash across his forehead
and left cheek, (received, probably, in the war
when he was captured,) had disfigured a coun-
tenance that had been originally expressive of
haughtiness and determination, and had, perhaps,
led the slave- dealer to bestow upon him in irony
the name by which he was now called.
The Pride of Ohio had made good two days of
her homeward passage, when, in endeavouring to
round a point on the southern coast of Cuba,
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
179
Ethelston descried a ship some miles to windward,
and a-head, which a careful examination through
his glass convinced him was a French frigate.
His mate being below at the time, he sent for
him on deck, anxious to see whether the expe-
rienced sailor's observation would confirm his
opinion. As soon as he appeared, handing him
the glass, he said, " Gr^gson, see what you make
of that fellow on our larboard bow."
"Make of her!" said the mate; "the devil
take him that made her, and him that brought
her athwart us, say I, captain ! She's a French-
man ; and though we can't well see her hull yet, I
doubt it won't be long before we see her row of
teeth.""
" I thought so myself," said Ethelston. ♦' We
must hold our course steady ; and if we can round
the point, we may then bear away, and show her
a pair of heels. Turn the hands up, Gregson ;
trim the sails, and stand by for a run. Put Har-
rison at the helm ; he can keep her a point nearer
than that youngster."
" Ay, ay, sir ! " was the reply ; and having ex-
ecuted the order, he returned to Ethelston, who
was still sweeping the southern horizon with his
glass, and examining the strange ship, whose hull
was now distinctly visible.
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II I.
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SI
180
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
The young man's countenance wore a grave
expression, as, returning the glass to his mate, he
said, •* Gregson, it is, as we supposed, a French
frigate. We may, perhaps, creep along under the
shore without his noticing our small craft."
The old seaman riveted the glass upon the
stranger, as if he wished to count every sail and
plank. During the examination, he grunted two
or three inarticulate ejaculations, in unison with
which his hard features underwent various con-
tortions; and his young commander waited with
no little impatience for what he called his " over-
hauling."
" She *s neither more nor less than that infernal
' Epervier,' commanded by L' Estrange. She's
one of the fastest sailers in their navy ; and as for
our creeping past her without being seen, he 's ^le
' wrong sort o' man for that fun : herring or whale,
all 'a fish for his net ! "
" I have often heard of him," said Ethelston :
" they say he 's a fine fellow."
« That he is, to give the devil his due, as jolly
an old dog as ever lived, and much too good a
seaman for a Mounseer. Look 'ee there, captain,"
added he, after another squint through the glass ;
" he 's altering his course already — two or three
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
181
points free, and the reefs shaken out o' the tops'ls.
We shall hear from him soon."
*' Can we give him the slip by bearhig up for
the eastern passage ? — We should then show him
our tail ; and a stern chase is a long one."
" We might try if you wish it, captain . but it
blows fresh, and she won't be very fond of this
lee shore. I think, if you allow me to advise,
we'd better hug it; take the chance of a long
shot in rounding that headland, and then run for
the inner channel behind the Isle of Pines. He'll
not be after following us there ; or, if he does, the
frigate's keel will chance to scrape acquaintance
with a reef."
'* You are right, Gregson," said Fthelston.
" The Pride ma fetch that point on this tack.
Keep a close luflF, l:i>;^rrison."
" Luff it is, sir," was the reply, as Ethelston
went below to consult his chart, and to prepare
himself for enterit)i^ the intricate channel between
the Isla de Pinos and the main island.
The gallant little brig wei. sustained her high
character as a sailer, and dashed her bows fear-
lessly through the foaming waves, under a press
of canvasia sjnh as few vessels of her tonnage could
have b* rne. The breeze was freshening, and the
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frigate now shaped her course with the evident
intention of cutting off the chase from rounding
the headland before mentioned.
The men on board the brig were nov clustered
forward, anxiously debating the probable i^sue;
while Cupid steamed away in his caboose, ^re-
paring the dinner as quietly as if there had been
no frigate to windward, nor a rock-bound shore
to leeward; but though he seemed thus busied
in his usual avocations, he cast every now and
then his daf k eye upon the Epervier ; and few on
board could estimate better than himself the dan-
ger of their situation.
Ethelston having finished a careful examination
of his chart, now came on deck, and a single glance
sufficed to show him that he could not round the
point a-head withqut coming within range of the
frigate's guns: but the brig had kept her offing,
and he had little doubt of her making good her
escape, unless she were crippled by a shot from
the enemy.
The Epervier now hoisted her colours for the
brig to heave-to ; and that being disregarded, she
fired a shot, which fell short of her bows. Find-
ing that no notice was taken of this; L' Estrange
ordered his first lieutenant to fire at the saucy
brig in good earnest, to bring her to her senses.
THE PRAIRIE- BIRD.
183
Fortunately for the latter, there was a short, angry
sea running, and the distance being considerable,
the first shot did not take effect. Several of the
hands on board the brig had served in men-of-war;
these were now oracles among their messmates,
and they looked with some anxiety at their young
captain, curious to see how he would behave under
fire, for they believed he had never smelt powder :
and although strict and firm in his command, be
was usually so gentle and quiet in his manner, that
they considered him rather a studious than a fight-
ing character. Their curiosity wa3 not, however,
much gratified ; for Ethelston, without appearing
to notice the frigate, kept his eye stedfastly fixed
upon the cape a-head ; and, after a brief silence,
he said, " Gregson, there is a strong current which
sets in shore here, <The Pride* cannot weather
that point on this tack."
" You are right, sir," said the mate ; " L'Es-
trange has got his bristles up, he is nearing us
every minute, and if we carry on this course, in
another half hour, both will go ashore."
*' Ha!*" exclaimed the young captain, the colour
rising in his cheek, as a sudden thought flashed
across him. " If we could ensure that both would
go to pieces among those breakers, it would be a
glorious death for the little brig to die I''
i ?y . Ty ^ ' 11- IW1N ■* '
184
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
He spoke these words in an under tone, and
rather musing to himself than addressing his offi-
cer. The latter, however, overheard them, and
looked at him with an astonishment which he could
not repress ; for he also knew as little as the crew,
of the determined courage that reposed under the
calm and quiet demeanour of his young comman-
der. Again a wreath of smoke issued from the
bows of the frigate, and a round shot passed
through the rigging of the chase, doing fortunate-
ly no material damage, but proving that they were
now within easy range.
"I fear it will not do, sir," said the mate in
reply to Ethclston's last words ; " she can pepper
away at us, and yet make her offing good."
"Then there remains but one chance for us,"
said the captain ; " answer her signal, show your
colours, 'bout ship, and stand for the frigate."
The mate was, if possible, more surprised at
this order than he had been before at the proposal
to try and cast both vessels ashore; but he was
too good a seaman to hesitate or to ask any ques-
tions ; and in a few minutes the gallant little brig
had answered the signal, and was standing out to-
wards the frigate on the starboard tack.
We will now transport the reader for a few
minutes on board Epervier, and make him ac-
"If,
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
185
quainted with the captain, into whose clutches the
poor .little brig seemed destined to falL L'Es-
trange was a fine-looking, middle-aged man, who
had spent the greater part of his life at sea, and
had married, when very young, a Spanish Creole,
whose beauty was her only dower ; he had several
children by this marriage, the eldest of whom was
now a lieutenant on board his ship ; the remainder
of the family resided at Point a Pitre, in Guada-
loupe, for the captain was in truth rather of the
* ancien regime ; * he loved his country, but he
hated the Directory and other fruits of the French
Revolution ; so that he never went to Europe, and
would have been but rarely employed had he not
been known to be one of the most skilful and ex-
perienced oflScers in the French navy. Such was
the man who now stood on the frigate's quarter-
deck, and after examining " The Pride *' again
through his glass, turned to his first-lieutenant
and desired him to cease firing, " That obstinate
trader,'' added he, " seemed- very anxious to
escape, and thought but little of the risk she
ran of going ashore, or of being riddled by our
shot!" , r ;,
" She*s one of those saucy Americans," said
the lieutenant, " that think nothing afloat can
match 'em; however she's made a mistake this
186
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
time, and I hope, sir, when she^s overhauled,
she'll prove worth the trouble she's given !"
The frigate, by this time, finding herself too
close in on a lee shore, hauled to the wind, and
disliking the broken and rugged appearance of the
coast, determined not to lie-to for the brig until
she had made sufficient offing. This was precisely
the calculation that Ethelston had made; and he
now paced his deck with a calm and satisfied coun-
tenance, whilst his men, grouped on the forecastle,
were quite at a loss to discover his intentions ; the
mate, however, was clearer sighted, and could not
withhold his admiration from the decision and
boldness of a manoeuvre, the success of which
must soon be tested.
The captain of the frigate went below to dinner,
having given orders to the lieutenant to stand out
on the same tack for another half hour, then to
lie-to until the brig should come alongside.
Meantime, Ethelston, who had kept his eye
fixed upon the head-land so often mentioned, mut-
tering to himself, " she will fetch it now," desired
the man at the helm, to yaw the brig about, to
throw her up now and then in the wind, so as to
fall astern of the frigate as much as possible, yet
not apparently varying the course. Having done
so as long as he judged it practicable without
~^
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
187
awakening the enemy's suspicion, he saw, to his
inexpressible delight, the frigate shorten sail to
enable him to come up ; instantly seizing this ad-
vantage, he ordered his mate to put the brig
about, and run for the Isle of Pines. It may
well be imagined that this bold manoeuvre was not
many moments unperceived on board the frigate ;
and L'Estrange's astonishment was great, when
from the noise overhead, and from the heeling of
the ship, he found that her course was being al-
tered. Springing on deck, he saw that he had -
been outwitted by the saucy brig, which was crowd-
ing all sail, and seemed not unlikely to effect her
escape. The old captain chafed, and stormed, and
swore that the obstinate little trader should pay
dearly for her insolence. ' t
The Epervier was a fast sailer, and as she now
dashed the spray from her bows under a press of
canvass, it was soon evident that the brig could
not yet round the point without coming within
range of her guns. .
Ethelston''s mind was now made up ; and finding
bis men cheerful and inspirited by the success of
his manoDUvre, he yet hoped to bring his vessel into
the intricate channel behind the island, where the
frigate would not venture to follow ; it was not long
w before she again saluted him, and one of the shot
]88
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
passing through the brig's bulwarks close to him,
shivered the binnacle into a hundred pieces. Ob-
serving symptoms of uneasiness in the man at the
helm, and that he swerved from the course, Ethel-
ston gave him a stern reproof, and again desired
Harrison to come to the helm. The frigate, which
still held the weather-gage, seemed now resolved
to cut off the brig from the headland, and to sink
her if she attempted to weather it Ethelston saw
his full danger, and was prepared to meet it ; had
he commanded a vessel of war, however small, he
would not have shrunk from the responsibility he
was about to incur; but, remembering that his
little brig was but a trader, and that the crew
ough't not to be exposed without their own con-
sent to danger so imminent as that before them,
he desired Gregson to call them aft, when he ad-
dressed them as follows :
" My lads, — you see the scrape we are in ; if
we can round that point, we may yet escape, but
to do so, we must run within a few hundred yards
of the frigate's broadside. What say you, my lads,
shall we strike, or stand the chance? — a French
prison, or hurrah for the Belise ?*"
" Hurrah for the Belise," shouted the men, ani-
mated by their young commander''s words and by
his fearless bearing ; so the little brig held on her
way.
, THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 189
A few minutes proved that he had neither mag-
nified nor underrated the danger ; his chart gave
him deep water round the headland ; and he now
ordered Harrison to keep her away, and let her
run close in shore, thereby increasing her speed,
and the distance from the enemy.
The surprise and wrath of L'Estrange, at the im-
pudent daring of a craft which he now perceived
to be really nothing but an insignificant trader, are
not to be described. He bore up after her, and
having desired the men to stand to their guns,
generously determined to give the saucy chase one
more chance, but finding his repeated signal for
her to heave-to, disregarded, he reluctantly gave
the order to fire. Fortunately for "The Pride,"
the sea was running high, and naval gunnery had
not then reached the perfection which it has since
attained ; and though her rigging was cut up from
stem to stern, and her fore-topmast was shot away,
and though she received several shot in her hull,
she still answered her helm, and gallantly rounding
the point, ran in shore, and was in a few minutes
among shoals which, to her light draught, were
not dangerous, but where it would have been mad-
ness in the frigate to follow. , V
V
190
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
CHAPTER XI.
ITHELSTON S FURTHER ADVENTURES AT SEA, AND HOW HE BE-
CAME CAPTOR AND CAPTIVE IN A VERY SHORT SPACE OF
TIME.
It seemed almost miraculous that not a man on
the * Pride of the Ohio" was killed by the frigate's
broadside, nor was one wounded, excepting Ethel-
ston, who received a slight hurt in the left arm
from a splinter ; but he paid no attention to it,
and calmly gave all the requisite orders for re-
pairing the damaged spars and rigging.
As soon as all was made snug, he let the men
go below to' dinner, and leaning over the shivered
bulwarks of his little craft, seemed busily em-
ployed in counting the shot that had struck her ;
but his eyes were for a time fixed upon the water,
through which she was cutting her easy way, and
his thoughts were afar off, as he whispered almost
audibly to himself, "Dear, dear Lucy — your name-
sake is wounded and disfigured, but she is not dis-
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
191
graced. Thank Heaven, no Frenchman's foot has
yet trodden her deck, and — "
Here he was interrupted by Gregson, who hav-
ing been carefully observing the frigate through
his glass, came up to him, and said, " Beg pardon,
sir, but she is getting ready her boats, and the
breeze is failing fast; in another hour we shall
have scarce a cat's paw."
Ethelston started from his short reverie, and
immediately convinced himself that the mate spoke
the truth ; " You are right," said he, " but we have
a good hour to spare, for the frigate is nearly be-
calmed. Let the men have their dinnef quietly,
say nothing to them about the matter, and give
'em an extra glass of grog ; but no drunkenness,
Gregson ; they may want the full use of their heads
and hands to-night ; send Cupid to my cabin, and
tell him to bring me a slice of cold meat and a
glass of Madeira."
So saying, he went below ; the mate looked after
htm, and turning his quid three or four times in
his cheek, he muttered, " Damme if he makes any
more count of the frigate's guns or boats than a
bear does of a bee-hive ! They spoilt as good a
commodore as ever stept a deck when they made
a trading- skipper of him !" Having vented this
characteristic encomium on his young commander,
192
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
the old seaman went forward to execute his
orders.
Meanwhile Ethelston, consulting his chart,
found that the reefs and shoals as laid down,
rendered the navigation of the coast extremely
dangerous even for the light draught of his brig ;
having only allowed himself a few minutes for
refreshment, he again went on deck, and observ-
ing the frigate still becalmed, he ordered the mate
to shorten sail, take soundings, and to desire the
carpenter to make a report of the leakage, or
any other serious injury sustained by the frigate's
shot
During this time L'Estrange was not idle on
board the " Epervier." Nettled at the successful
trick played upon him, he resolved as the breeze
gradually died away to capture the chase with his
boats ; for this duty the launch and the pinnace
were assigned: the former had a carronade and
twenty-five hands, and was commanded by his
son ; the latter had a swivel, and thirteen hands,
commanded by a junior lieutenant. The object of
L'Estrange being to prevent an unnecessary effu-
sion of blood, by sending a force strong enough to
render resistance hopeless on the part of, what
he called, a dirty little sugar-boat. The crew of
The i ride of Ohio, elated by the success of their
I
£
THE PRAIRIE- BIRD.
193
Captain's manoeuvre, and exhilarated by the extra
grog served out, were in high good humour, and
laughing over the events of the morning with
reckless merriment, when they received an order
from Ethelston to come aft. On their obeying
the summons, he again addressed them as fol-
lows : —
" My lads, you have thus far done your duty
like men; but our work is not yet over. The
Epervier is determined to sink or capture our
little craft ; she is now getting out her boats for
that service: if we resist, we shall have warm
work of it ; if we strike without a fight, we may
rot in a French dungeon. Again I ask you, my
lads, will you stick by The Pride, and hurrah for
home, or a sailor's grave I"
A hearty and simultaneous cheer from the crew
was the only reply.
** I knew it, my lads," continued Ethelston, his
countenance, usually so calm, now glowing with
enthusiasm, " I knew that you would not desert
her while she could float ! It is now my duty to
tell you that she has received two awkward shots
just between wind and water line, and that she
leaks apace. We must stop them as well as we
may ; but be prepared for the boats from the Eper-
vier ; — they shall at least buy us a dear bargain ! **
m
i'
J''
^
i I
VOL. I.
194
THE PRAIRIE-BTRD.
Ethelston now called the mate, and gave him
full instructions for the plan of defence from '.he
expected attack. The long gun and the carron-
ades were got ready and loaded, the former with
round shot,, the latter with grape ; small arms and
cutlasses were served out to the men, and the deck
cleared of everything that might impede them in
the approaching struggle. Meantime Ethelston
ordered to be hoisted a new ensign, given to the
brig by Lucy, and said to be partly worked by
her own fair fingers. As soon as it was run up,
he sent aloft a boy, with orders to nail it to the
mast-head, which was done amid the repeated
cheers of the crew. They were not long kept in
suspense ; the breeze had died away : the flapping
sails and creaking yards gave the usual sullen in-
dications of a calm, when the boats from the Eper-
vier advanced at a steady and measured stroke
towards the brig. Ethelston gave the long gun to
the charge of Gregson, reserving to himself that of
the carronades ; he issued also special orders not
to fire, under any circumstances, until he gave the
word, or in case he fell, until they received the
order from Gregson, who would succeed him in
the command. . ^ ^ * -
During all these preparations, Cupid appeared
indifferent to what was passing, and continued
'
%:
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
195
busily occupied with his pots and pans in the ca-
boose. This conduct caused some little surprise
in Ethelston, who knew that the black was not the
stupid phlegmatic character that he now seemed ;
and he accordingly sent Gregson to inquire whe-
ther, in the event of an attack from the frigate's
boats, he meant to fight ? desiring the mate at the
same time to offer him a cutlass. The African
grinned when he received this message, and re-
plied that he meant to do his best. He declined,
however, the proffered cutlass, informing the mate,
that he had got a toasting-fork of his own, ready
for the Mounseers ; as he said this, he showed him
the fragment of a capstan-bar, the end of which he
had sharpened and burnt hard in the hot cinders;
it was an unwieldy kind of club, and in the hands
of an ordinary man, could have been but of little
service ; but his gigantic strength enabled him to
wield it like a common cudgel. The truth is, that
Cupid would have preferred being armed with cut-
lass and pistol, both of which he could use as well
as any man on board ; but lie had tact enough to
know that the prejudice against his colour forbad
his taking his place on deck among the other de-
fenders of the vessel.
The boats being new within hail, Lieutenant
L' Estrange stood up in the launch and ordered
K 2 .
■•' j)-i
;;■/■ ,1 ■
i^''.
VT
196
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
the brig to strike her colours, and receive him on
board. Finding this order unheeded, he repeated
it through the trumpet in a sterner tone, adding
that, if not immediately obeyed, he should fire
upon her. Not a man stirred on board the brig,
neither was any reply made to the lieutenant, who
forthwith discharged the contents of his carronade
into her hull, by which one man was killed dead,
and two were wounded by splinters; he then de-
sired his men to pull hard for the brig to board
her, while others had orders to fire small arms at
all whom they could see above the bulwarks. The
boats had approached within fifty yards before
Ethelston gave the word to fire. Gregson pointed
the long gun upon the smaller boat with so true
an aim that the heavy shot went clean through
her, and she filled and went down in a few minutes,
the survivors of her crew being picked up by the
launch. Meanwhile, Ethelston fired a volley of
grape into the latter with terrible effect, several
being killed on the spot, and many of the remain-
der severely wounded. Nothing daunted by this
murderous fire, the gallant young lieutenant held
on his way to the brig, and again discharging his
carronade at the distance of only a few yards, her
timbers were fearfully rent, and' amidst the smoke
and confusion thereby created, he and his crew
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
197
scrambled up her sides to board. The combat
was now hand to hand ; nor was it very unequal,
so many of the Frenchmen having been killed and
wounded in th6 boats ; they were strong enough,
however, to make good their footing on deck, and
inch by inch, they forced back the crew of the
brig. Ethelston fought with the courage of a lion ;
his voice was heard above the din of the fray, ani-
mating his men ; and several of the boldest of the
enemy had already felt the edge of his cutlass.
Nor was young L'Estrange less gallant in his at-
tack, and his followers being more numerous than
their opponents, drove them back gradually by
main force. It was at this moment, that Cupid,
who had hitherto remained unnoticed in his ca-
boose, thought fit to commence his operations;
which he did by throwing a great pan of greasy
boiling water over three or four of the assailants,
and then laying about him with his huge club,
which felled a man almost at every blow. The
excruciating pain occasioned by the hot liquid, to-
gether with the consternation produced by this
unexpected attack in their rear, completed the
dismay of the Frenchmen^ At this crisis young
L'Estrange slipped and fell on the deck ; Gregsor,
bestriding him, was about to dispatch him, when
Ethelston, who was already bleeding from a severe
W
i
tM
f
.. \i
198
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
cutlass wound in the forehead, rushed forward to
save him ; but the infuriated youth, perhaps mis-
taking his intention, drew his last remaining pistol,
and fired with so true an aim, that Ethelston's left
arm fell powerless at his side. A flush of anger
came over his countenance; but seeing Gregson
again raising his hand to dispatch the young offi-
cer, he again interposed, and desired the mate to
spare him, — an order which the seaman reluctantly
obeyed.
Ethelston now entreated LTiStrange to give up
his sword, and to save further bloodshed ; and the
young man, seeing that his followers were mostly
overpowered and wounded, presented it with a
countenance in which grief and shame were blen-
ded with indignation. " Stay," said Ethelston ;
" before I receive your sword, the conditions on
which I receive it are, that you give your parole,
that neither you nor any one of your men shall
bear arms against the United States, during the
continuance of this war, whether you and I are
recaptured or not; and the launch becomes my
prize."
To these terms the youth assented, and ordered
such of his men as were not quite disabled, to lay
down their arms. In a few mihutes, all who were
unhurt were busily engaged in tending the dying
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
199
and .wounded. Fortunately an assistant-surgeon,
who had volunteered on this service from the
frigate, was among those unhurt, and he set ahout
his professional duties with as much alacrity as if
he had been in the ward of an hospital. Cupid
retreated quietly to his caboose, and Ethelston
continued giving his orders with the same clear-
ness and decision that had marked his whole con-
duct Young L'Estrange looked over the brig's
low sides into the water; his heart was too full
for utterance; and his captor, with considerate
kindness, abstained from addressing him. The
surgeon, observing that the blood still flowed from
the wound on Ethelston's forehead, and that his
left arm hung at his side, now came and offered
his services. Thanking him courteously, he re-
plied, smiling, ** I took my chance of wounds en
equal terms with those brave fellows, and I will
take my chance of cure on equal terms also;
when you have attended to all those who are
more seriously hurt, I shall be happy to avail my-
self of your skill." •
The surgeon bowed and withdrew. An audible
groan burst from the unhappy L'Estrange, but still
he spoke not ; and Ethelston held a brief consulta-
tion with his mate and the carpenter, the result
of which was, an order given to the former, in a
''If
m
"-J
wi'
■!*' i
Y^^Bssm
w
200
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
low tone of voice, ** to prepare immediately, and
to send Cupid to him in the cabin "
> As he was going down, L'Estrange came to him,
and asked him, confusedly, and with an averted
countenance, if he might speak to him alone for a
minute. Ethelston begged him to follow him into
his cabin, when, having shut the door, he said,
"M. L'Estrange, we are alone, pray speak; is
there anything in which I can serve you."
The youth gazed on him for a moment, in an
agony that could not yet find relief in words, and
then falling on the floor, burst into a flood of tears.
Ethelston was moved and surprised at this violent
grief in one whom he had so lately seen under the
influence of pride and passion. Taking him kind-
ly by the hand, he said, " Pray compose yourself !
these are misfortunes to which all brave men are
liable. You did all that a gallant officer could do ;
— success is at the disposal of a higher power ; you
will meet it another day." - ' f '
" Never, never I " said the young lieutenant,
vehemently ; " the loss of my boat is nothing ; the
failure of our attack is nothing ; but I am a dis-
honoured coward, and Heaven itself cannot restore
a tainted honour !""
" Nay, nay," replied Ethelston ; " you must not
say so. I maintain that you and your crew fought
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
201
gallantly till every hope of success was gone — the
bravest can do no more ! "
" You are blindly generous/' said the youth, pas-
sionately ; " you will not understand me I When
every hope was gone — when I lay at the mercy
of your mate's cutlass — you sprang forward to
save my life. — I, like a savage — a monster — a
coward as I am,— fired and tried to kill you; —
even then, without a word of anger or reproach,
you, although wounded by my pistol, again inter-
posed, and saved me from the death I deserved.
Oh, would that I had died an hundred deaths
rather than have lived to such disgrace !"
And again the unhappy young officer byried
his face in his hands, while his whole frame still
trembled convulsively with grief. Ethelston used
every exertion to soothe and allay his agitation.
He assured him that the wound he had received
was not serious, that the pistol was fired under a
strong excitement, and in the turmoil of a bloody
fray, when no man's thoughts are sufficiently col-
lected to regulate his conduct ; and he forgave him
so freely and mingled his forgiveness with so many
expressions of kindness and esteem, that he suc-
ceeded at length in restoring him to a certain
degree of composure. Nothing, however, would
satisfy L'Estrange but that he should have his
k5
: S!^
t:
fr
mn
i
202
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
wounds instantly dressed ; and he rah himself and
summoned the surgeon, resolving to be present at
the operation.
When Ethelston's clothes were removed, it ap-
peared that besides a few flesh cuts of no great
consequence, he had received two severe shot
wounds : one from a musket*ball, which had sunk
deep into the left shoulder, the other from L'Es-
trange's pistol, by which the bone of the left arm
was broken. The latter was soon set and ban-
daged; but the ball could not be extracted from
the former, either because the surgeon's skill was
not equal to the task, or from his not having with
him the instruments requisite for the operation.
As soon as this was over, Ethelston dismissed the
surgeon; and turning good-humouredly to L'Es-
trange, he said, " Now, my young friend, I want
your assistance. .1 must lose no time in putting
all our men aboard the launch, and taking in as
many stores and necessaries as she will hold, for
this brig is doomed ; your swivel and the frigate's
guns have finished her ; she is fast settling down,
and in a couple of hours I expect her to sink."
" On my word, sir," said L'Estrange, " you will
pardon me if I say, that you are the strongest
gentleman that I ever yet knew to command a
trading brig ! Yoii out-manoeuvre a frigate, cap-
"*r»"
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
203
ture her boats, dght as if you had done nothing
but fight all your life, sit as quiet under that sur-
geon^s probes and tortures as if you were eating
your dinner, and now talk calmly of scuttling your
brig, for which you have run all these risks ! *'
" It is my philosophy, Monsieur I'Estrange. I
tried first to get away without fighting ; when that
was impossible, I fought as well as I could. What
has happened since, and what is yet to come, I
bear as well as I can ! All that I ask of you is to
keep your fellows in order, and make them assist
mine in removing the wounded and the requisite
stores on board the launch." So saying, and again
saluting his prisoner, he went on deck.
Though he struggled thus manfully against his
emotion, it was with a heavy heart that Ethelston
prepared to bid a final adieu to his little vessel,
which he loved much for her own sake, — more
perhaps for the name she bore. While giving the
necessary orders for this melancholy duty, his at-
tention was called by Gregson to a sail that was
coming up with the light evening breeze astern.
One look through the glass sufficed to shew him
that she hoisted French colours ; and L'Estrange,
who now came on deck, immediately knew her to
be the Hirondelle, — an armed cutter that acted
on this cruise as a tender to the Epervier. A
-I
r.i',
■■:1i
m
1 ■^ii
20^
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
momentary glow overspread the countenance of
Ethelston, as he felt that resistance was hopeless,
and that in another hour his brig would be sunk,
and his brave crew prisoners. But being too
proud to allow the French officer to see his emo-
tion, he controlled it by a powerful effort, and
continued to give his orders with his accustomed
coolness and precision.
Though young L'Estrange's heart beat high at
this sudden and unlooked-for deliverance, he could
not forbear his admiration at his captor's self-
possession ; and his own joy was damped by the
remembrance of that portion of his own conduct
which he had so deeply lamented, and also of the
parole he had given not to bear arms again during
the war. Meantime the removal of the men, the
stores, provisions, and papers from the brig went
on with the greatest order and dispatch.
Ethelston was the last to leave her ; previous to
his doing so, he made the carpenter knock out
the oakum and other temporary plugs with which
he had stoppe4 the leaks, being determined that
she should not fall into the hands of the French.
This being completed, the launch shoved off; and
while pulling heavily for the shore, the crew looked
in gloomy silence at their ill-fated brig. Ethel-
ston was almost unmanned ; for his heart and his
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
• 205
thoughts were on Ohio's banks, and he could not
separate the recollections of Lucy from the un-
timely fate of her favourite vessel. He gazed
until his sight and brain grew dizzy; he fancied
that he saw Lucy s form on the deck of the brig,
and that she stretched her arms to him for aid.
Even while he thus looked, the waters poured
fast into their victim. She settled, — sunk ; and in
a few minutes scarce a bubble on their surface
told where the Pride of Ohio had gone down !
A groan burst from Ethelston's bosom. Nature
could no longer endure the accumulated weight of
fatigue and intense pain occasioned by his wounds:
he sunk down insensible in the boat, and when he
recovered his senses, found himself a prisoner on
board the Hirondelle.
Great had been the surprise of the lieutenant
who commanded her at the disappearance of the
brig which he had been sent to secure ; and greater
still at the condition of the persons found on board
the launch. His inquiries were answered by young
L'Estrange with obvious reluctance: so having
paid the last melancholy duties to the dead, and
afforded all the assistance in his power to the
wounded, he put about the cutter, and made sail
for the Epervier. *
As soon as young L'Estrange found himself on
i
206
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
the frigate's deck, he asked for an immediate and
private audience of his father, to whom he d< tailed
without reserve all the circumstances of the late
expedition. He concluded his narration with the
warmest praises of Ethelston's courage, conduct,
and humanity, while he repeated that bitter cen-
sure of his own behaviour which he had before
expressed on board the Pride of Ohio. The gal-
lant old Captain, though mortified at the failure of
the enterprise and the loss of men that he had
sustained, could not but appreciate the candour,
and feel for the mortification of his favourite son ;
«
and he readily promised that Ethelston should be
treated with the greatest care and kindness, and
that the most favourable terms, consistent with his
duty, should be oflfered to the prisoners.
Young L'Estrange gave up his own berth to
Ethelston, whose severe sufferings had been suc-
ceeded by a weakness and lethargy yet more dan-
gerous. The surgeon was ordered to attend him ;
and his care was extended to all the wounded,
without distinction of country.
After a few days Captain I'Estrange determined
to exchange Gregson, the mate, and the remainder
of the brig''s crew, for some French prisoners lately
taken by an American privateer ; they were accord-
ingly placed for that purpose on board the cutter.
■ ((
». •
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
207
and sent to New Orleans. Young L'Estrange
having learned from the mate the address of Colo-
nel Brandon pnd his connection with Ethelston,
wrote him a letter, in which he mentioned the
latter in the highest and most affectionate termsi
assuring the Colonel that he should be treated as
if he were his own brother ; and that, although the
danger arising from his wounds rendered it abso-
lutely necessary that he should return to Guada-
loupe with the frigate, his friends might rely upon
his being tended with the same care as if he had
been at home. Cupid, at his own urgent entreaty,
remained with his master, taking charge of all his
private baggage and papers.
We need not follow the fate of the cutter any
further than to say that she reached her destina-
tion in safety; that the proposed exchange was
effected, and the prisoners restored to their respec-
tive homes.
The surgeon on board the Epervier succeeded
at length in taking out the ball lodged in Ethel-
ston''s shoulder, and when they arrived at Guada-
loupe, he pronounced his patient out of danger,
but enjoined the strictest quiet and confinement,
till his recovery should be further advanced. The
ardent young L'Estrange no sooner reached home
than he prevailed on his father to receive Ethel-
! n
wr
■\ '!'
208
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
ston into his own house. He painted to his sister
Nina, a girl of seventeen, the sufferings and the
heroism of their guest, in the most glowing co-
lours; he made her prepare for him the most
refreshing and restoring beverages; he watched
for hours at the side of his couch ; in short, he
lavished upon him all those marks of affection
with which a hasty and generous nature loves to
make reparation for a wrong. In all these at-
tentions and endeavours, he was warmly seconded
by Nina, who made her brother repeat more than
once, the narrative of the defence and subsequent
loss of the brig. How Ethelston's recovery pro-
ceeded under the csne of the brother and sister
shall be told in another chapter. „
THE PRAIRIE-BIBD.
209
CHAPTER XII.
VljilT OF WINGENUND TO MOOSHANNE, HE REJOINS WAH-EAGLE,
AND THEY RETURN TO THEIR BAND IN THE FAR WEST.
M. PERROT MAKES AN UNSUCCESSFUL ATTACK ON THE HEART
OF A YOUNG LADY.
We must now return to Mooshanne, where
Colonel Brandon received Wingenund very kindly;
and within half an hour of the arrival of the party,
they were all seated at his hospitable board, where-
on smoked venison steaks, various kinds of fowls,
a substantial ham, cakes of rice, and Indian maize.
On the side, table were cream, wild honey, cheese
and preserved fruits, all these delicacies being ad-
mirably served under the superintendence of Aunt
Mary, who was delighted with Wingenund, praised
the extreme beauty of his eyes and features, tell-
ing the colonel, in a whisper, that if she had been
thirty-five years younger, she should have been
afraid of losing her heart ! The youth was indeed
the hero of the day : all were grateful to him for
his gallant preservation of Reginald's life, and all
warns
210
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
strove with equal anxiety to make him forget that
he was among strangers. Nor was the task diffi-
cult ; for though he had only the use of one hand,
it was surprising to see the tact and self-possession
with which he conducted himself, the temperate
quietness with which he ate and drank, and the
ease with which he handled some of the imple-
ments at table, which he probably saw for the first
time. Baptiste was a privileged person in the
Colonel's house, and was allowed to dine as he
pleased, either with its master, or with Perrot and
the other servants. On this occasion, he was pre-
sent in the dining-room, and seemed to take a
pleasure in drawing out the young Delaware, and
in making him talk on subjects which he knew
would be interesting to the rest of the party.
Wingenund was quiet and reserved in hi? replies,
except when a question was put to him by Lucy,
to whom he gave his answers with the greatest
naivete, telling her more than once, that she re-
minded him of his sister Prairie-bird, but that
the latter was taller, and had darker hair. Whilst
addressing her, he kept his large speaking eyes so
riveted upon Lucy's countenance, that she cast
her own to the ground, almost blushing at the
boy's earnest and admiring gaze. To relieve her-
self from embarrassment, she again inquired about
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
211
this mysterious sister, sayiDg, " Tell me Winge-
nund, has she taught you to read, as well as to
speak our tongue."
" No," said the youth ; " Prairie-bird talks with
the Great Spirit, and with paper books, and so
does the Black Father; but Wingenund cannot
understand them, — he is only a poor Indian."
Here Reginald, whose curiosity was much ex-
cited, inquired, "Does the Prairie-bird look kindly
on the young chiefs of the tribe? — Will she be the
wife of a chief ?"
There was something both of surprise and
scorn in Wingenund's countenance, as be replied,
" Prairie-bird is kind to all — the young chiefs find
wives among the daughters of the Delawares; —
but the antelope mates not with the moose, though
they feed on the same Prairie. The Great Spirit
knows where the Prairie-bird was born; but her
race is unknown to the wise men among the Tor-
toises."
Reginald and his sistef were equally at a loss
to understand his meaning ; both looked inquiring-
ly at the Guide, who was rubbing his ear, as if
rather puzzled by the young Delaware's answer.
At length, he said, "Why, Miss Lucy, you see,
much of what the lad says is as plain to me as the
sight on my rifle : for the tribes of the Lenape are
\ \
212
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
as well known to me as the totems of the Oggi-
beways. The Great nation is divided into three
tribes: — the Minsi, or the Wolf-tribe (sometimes
called also Puncsit, or round-foot) ; the Unalac-
ticos, or the Turkey-tribe, and the Unamis, or the
Tortoise-tribe. The last are considered the prin-
cipal and most ancient; and as Wingenund's fa-
mily are of this band, he spoke just now of their
wise men. But who, or what kin' o' crittur this
Prairie-bird can be, would puzzle a Philadelphy
lawyer to tell, let alone a poor hunter who knows
little out of the line of his trade."
"Then, Baptiste," said Lucy, smiling; "your
trade is a pretty extensive one, for I think you
have more knowledge in your head on most sub-
jects than half the lawyers and clerks in the Ter-
ritory."
"There it is. Miss Lucy; you 're always a givin'
me a little dose of flattery, just as I give my patches
a bit of grease to make the Doctor swallow his lead
pills. You ladies think we're all ahke, — young
sparks, and tough old chaps like me, — if you do
but dip our fingers into the honey-pot, you know
we shall lick them as soon as your backs are
turned ! But it is getting late,'* he added, rising
from his seat ; " and I have much to say to this
youth, who is already tired ; with your leave, Miss,
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
213
Sing
this
[iss«
I will retire with him, and see that he has a com-
fortable sleeping-quarter, and that he wants for
nothing."
" Pray do so," said Lucy ; " let him be treated
as if he were one of our own family. I am sure,
dear papa, such would be your wish," she added,
turning to her father.
" It is indeed, my child,*" said the Colonel.
** Wingenund, again I beg you to receive a father's
best thanks for your brave defence of his son."
" It was nothing," replied the boy, modestly.
** You are all good, too good to Wingenund ; when
he gets to the Far Prairie, he will tell the Prairie-
bird and the Black Father to speak to the Great
Spirit, that He may smile on my white father, and
on my brother; and," he added, slowly raising
his dark eloquent eyes to Lucy's face, "that he
may send down pleasant sunshine and refreshing
dew on the Lily of Mooshanne."" So saying, he
turned and left the room, accompanied by the
Guide.
" Well," exclaimed the Colonel, as the youth
disappeared, "^they may call that lad a savage;
but his feelings, ay, and his manners too, would
put to shame those of many who think themselves
fine gentlemen."
" He is, indeed, a noble young fellow," said
214
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
Reginald, " and worthy to be the relative and
pupil of my Indian brother. I would that you
had seen /jem, father: you are in general rather
sceptical as to the qualities of the Redskins. I
think the War-Eagle would surprise you ! "
" Indeed, Reginald," said the Colonel, " I have
seen among them so much cruelty, cunning, and
drunkenness, that the romantic notions which I
once entertained respecting them are completely
dissipated. Nevertheless, I confess that many of
their worst faults have arisen from their commerce
with the whites ; and they still retain some virtues
which are extremely rare among us.'*
" To which do you allude ? " inquired Reginald.
" More especially, to patience under suffering,
a padlocked mouth when entrusted with a secret,
and unshaken fidelity in friendship."" .
" These are indeed high and valuable qualities,"
replied Reginald. " Moreover, it strikes me that
in opf principal feature of character the Indian is
superior to us; he acts up to his creed. That
creed may be entirely based on error ; it may teach
him to prefer revenge to mercy, theft to industry,
violence to right ; but such as he has learnt it from
his fathers, he acts up to it more firmly and con-
sistently than we do, *who know the right, and
still the wrong pursue.'"
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
215
"Your observation is just,"" replied his father;
" they are benighted, and do many of the deeds of
darkness. What shall we say of those who do
them under the light of a noon-day sun ?"
" And yet," said Lucy, " this Wingenund seems
half a Christian, and more than half a gentleman,
either by nature, or by the instructions of the
strange being he calls the Prairie-bird ! "
" Upon my word, Lucy," said her brother, with
a malicious smile, "I thought, while the lad was
speaking of his sister on the Prairie, his eyes were
strangely fixed upon the white lady in the wig-
wam. It is fortunate he is going soon ; and still
more fortunate that a certain cruizing captain is
not returned from the West Indies." As this im-
pertinent speech was made in a whisper, it did not
reach Aunt Mary or the Colonel; and the only
reply it drew from Lucy, was a blushing threat of
a repetition of the same punishment which she had
inflicted in the morning for a similar offence.- He
begged pardon, and was forgiven ; soon after which
the little party broke up and retired to rest.
Meantime Baptiste, who knew that the well-
intentioned offer of a bed-room and its comforts
would be a great annoyance to Wingenund, took
the lad out with him to a dry barn behind the
house, where there was an abundant supply of
rH
\v
/ V
; I .
k\
216
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
clean straw, and where he intended to lodge him
for the night. " Wingenund," said he, " you will
rest here for some hours; but we must go long
before daylight to meet War-Eagle, according to
my promise."
" I will be ready," replied the youth ; and cast-
ing himself down on a bundle of straw, in five
minutes his wounds and fatigues were forgotten in
a refreshing sleep, over which hovered the bright
dreams of youth, wherein the sweet tones of his
sister's voice were confused with the blue eyes of
Lucy; and yet withal a sleep, such as guilt can
never know, and the wealth of the Indies cannot
purchase.
Before three o'clock on the following morning,
the Guide re-entered the barn with a light step;
not so light, however, as to escape the quick ear
of the young Indian, who leapt from his straw
couch, and throwing his rifle over his shoulder,
stood before the hunter. " I hope you slept well,"
said the latter, " and that your arm gives you less
pain ? "
" I slept till you came," said the boy, ** and the
pain sleeps still. I feel nothing of it."
" Wingenund will be like his father," said the
Guide. " He will laugh at pain, and fatigue, and
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
217
the
md
danger; and his war-path will be sprinkled with
the blood of his enemies."
The youth drew himself proudly up, and though
gratified by the Guide's observation, merely re-
plied, "The Great Spirit knows. — I am ready;
let us go."
Baptiste had provided a couple of horses, and
they started at a brisk pace, as he wished to reach
the spot where he had appointed to meet War-
Eagle soon after daylight. To one less familiar
with the woods, the tangled and winding path,
through which he led the way, would have offered
many impediments ; but Baptiste went rapidly for-
ward without hesitation or diflSculty, Wingenund
following in silence; and after a brisk ride of three
hours they came to an opening in the forest, where
a log-hut was visible, and beyond it the broad ex-
panse of Ohio's stream.
The Guide here whispered to Wingenund to
remain concealed in the thicket with the horse?,
whilst he reconnoitered the hut ; because he knew
that it was sometimes used as a shelter and a ren-
dezvous, by some of the lawless and desperate
characters on the borders of the settlements.
Having finished his examination, and ascertained
that the hut was empty, he returned to Winge-
VOL. I. L
)\
218
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
nund) and desired him to come down to the water's
edge, where he was to make a signal for War-
Eagle, who ought to be now at no great distance.
The youth accordingly went to the river's bank,
and understanding from the Guide that there was
no occasion for further concealment, he gave three
whistles in a peculiar tone, but exceedingly loud
and shrill. For some time they listened for a re-
ply. Nothing was heard, except the beak of the
woodpecker upon the bark of the elm, and the
notes of the various feathered choristers chirping
their matin song.
After a pause of several minutes, the Guide said,
" Surely some accident has detained War-Eagle !
Perhaps he has failed in getting the canoe. Re-
peat the signal, Wingenund.'*
** War-Eagle is here," replied the youth, who was
quietly leaning on his rifle, with an abstracted air.
Again the Guide listened attentively ; and as he
was unable to distinguish the slightest sound indi-
cative of the chief's approach, he was rather vexed
at the superior quickness implied in Wingenund's
reply, and said somewhat testily, " A moose i?iight
hear something of him, or a bloodhound might
find the wind of him, but I can make out nothing,
and my ears an't used to be stuffed with cotton,
neither ! "
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
219
/as
led
Ight
]ng»
Lon,
" Grande-Hache is a great warrior, and Win-
genund would be proud to follow in his war-path ;
eyes and ears are the gift of the Great Spirit."
" How know j'ou that War-Eagle is here ?"" in- •
quired the Guide impatiently.
" By that," replied the boy, pointing to a scarcely
perceptible mark on the bank a few yards from his
feet, " that is the mocassin of the War-Eagle ; he
has been to the hut this morning ; below that foot-
print you will see on the sand the mark of where
his canoe has touched the ground."
" The boy is right," muttered Baptiste, examin-
ing the marks carefully. " I believe I am no hun-
ter, but an ass after all, with no better ears and
eyes than Master Perrot, or any other parlour-
boarder."
In a very few minutes the sound of the paddle
was heard, and War-Eagle brought his canoe to
the bank ; a brief conversation now took place be-
tween him and Baptiste, in which some particulars
were arranged for Reginald's visit to the Western
Prairie. The Guide then taking from his wallet
several pounds of bread and beef, and a large par-
cel of tobacco, added these to the stores in the
bottom of the canoe, and having shaken hands
heartily with the chief and Wingenund, returned
leisurely on his homeward way ; but he still mut-
1,2
4
! . ; u
mv ,
220
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
I : J
tered to himself as he went; and it was evident
that he cuuld not shake off the annoyance which
he felt at being "out-crafted," as he called it, "by
a boy!"
We will not follow the tedious and toilsome
vpyage of War-Eagle and his young friend, in the
canoe, a voyage in which after descending the
Ohio, they had to make their way up the Missis-
sippi to its. junction with the Missouri, and thence
up the latter river to the mouth of the Osage
river, which they also ascended between two and
three hundred miles before they rejoined their
band. Tt is sufficient for the purposes of our tale
to inform the reader that they reached their des-
tination in safety, and that Wingenund recovered
from the effects of his severe wound.
When Baptiste returned to Mooshanne, he found
the family surprised and annoyed at the sudden
disappearance of their young Indian guest; but
when he explained to R'^»ginald that he had gone
to rejoin his chief by War, -Eagle's desire, Re-
ginald felt that the best course had been adopt-
ed, as the boy might, if he had remained, have
fallen in the w^ay of the exasperated party who
were seeking to revenge Hervey's death.
It was about noon when Mike Smith, and se-
veral of those who accompanied him the preceding
THE PRAIRIE-niRD.
221
day, arrived at Mooshanne, and insisted upon Bap-
tiste shewing them the spot where he had told
them that an Indian had been recently buried.
Reginald declined being of the party, which set
forth under the conduct of the Guide, to explore
the scene of the occurrences mentioned in a former
chapter.
During their absence, Reginald was lounging
in his sister's boudoir, talking with her over the
events of the preceding days, when they heard
the sound of a vehicle driven up to the door,
and the blood rushed into Lucy's face as the
thought occurred to her that it might be Ethel-
ston ; the delusion was very brief, for a moment
afterwards the broad accent of David *Muir was
clearly distinguishable, as he said to his daughter,
" Noo Jessie, baud a grip o' Smiler, whilst I gie
a pull at the door-bell."
Much to the surprise of the worthy " Mer-
chaunt," (by which appellation David delighted to
be designated,) the door was opened by no less a
personage than Monsieur Gustave Perrot himself,
who seeing the pretty Jessie in her father's spring-
cart, hastened with characteristic gallantry, to assist
her to descend ; in the performance of which opera-
tion he extended both his hands to support her
waist, saying in his most tender tone, '* Take care,
' II
I 'Iff
222
THE PEAIRIE-BIRD.
I! i
Miss Jessie ; now .shump, and trust all your leetle
weight with me."
But while he was speaking, the active girl put-
ting one foot on the step and touching him lightl;^
on the arm, stood on the ground beside him.
" Weel, Mr. Parrot, and how's a wi ye the day,"
said David, who was busily employed in extracting
various packages and parcels from the cart.
** All vef well, thank you, Mr. Muir ; wonderful
things happen, though. My young Mr. Reginald
he be drowned and stabbed, and quite well I""'
" Gude save us !" said David, in horror;
"drowned, and stabbed, and quite w^ll ! YeVe
surely no in earnest, Mr. Parrot ! "
'*] speak only the truth always, — Miss Jessie,
the fresh air and the ride make your cheek beau-
tiful rosy."
" Mr. Perrot," replied Jessie, smiling, " that is
a poor compliment ! You are so gallant a gentle-
man, you should praise the roses in a lady's cheek
without mentioning that she owes them to a rough
road and a fresh breeze !" \
This dialogue on roses was here interrupted by
David, who said, " May be, Mr. Parrot, ye '11 just
let Smiler be ta'en round to the stable, and desire
ane o' the lads to help us in with these twa par-
cels; yon muckle basket, tnere, is brimfull of all
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
223
the newest kick-shav/s, and modes, as they call
'em, frae Philadelphy, so Jessie's just come wi'
me, to gie Miss Lucy the first choice; — and she's
a right to hae it tooj for she's the bonniest and the
best young lady in the Territory."
Mr. Parrot, having given these necessary orders,
David, with his papers, was soon closetted with
the colonel, in his business room ; and Jessie was
ushered into the young lady's boudoir, where her
brother still sat, with the intention of giving his
sister the ben; fit of his advice in the selection of,
what David called, kickshcws and modes, for her
toilet. Meanwhile Perrot was preparing a formid-
able attack upon Jessie's heart, through the me-
dium of some venison steaks, a delicate ragout of
squirrel, and sundry other tit-bits, with which he
hoped to propitiate the village beauty. As Jessie
entered the room, her salutation of Lucy was mo-
destly respectful ; and she returned Reginald's how
with an unembarrassed and not ungraceful court-
esy. While she was drawing out, and placing on
a table, the silken contents of h ,r basket, Reginald
inquired of her whether any news was stirring in
Marietta.
" None," replied she, " except the killing of
Hervey. All the town is speaking of it, and they
say it will cause more bloodshed ; for Mike Smith
W"
\ '
224
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
VOWS, if he cannot find the real offender, he *11 shoot
down the first Indian he find^in the woods."
" Mike Smith is a hot-headed fool," replied
Reginald ; but remembering sundry reports which
had reached his ear, he added, " I beg your par-
don, Miss Jessie, if the words give you offence."
" Indeed you have given none, Master Regi-
nald,*" said Jessie, colouring a little at the implied
meaning of his words ; " Mike comes very often
to our store, but I believe it is more for whiskey
than anything else."
" Nay," said Reginald ; " I doubt you do him in-
justice. They say he prefers the end of the store
which is thy furthest from the bar."
" Perhaps he may," replied Jessie; "I am al-
ways better pleased when he stays away, for he is
very ill-tempered and quarrelsome! Well, miss,"
continued she, "are not these pink ribbons beau-
tiful, and these two light shawls, — they come from
the British East India House ? "
" They are indeed the prettiest and most deli-
cate that I ever saw," replied Lucy; "and see
here, Reginald," said she, drawing him aside,
"these French bead necklaces will dr famous^.y
for some of your Delaware friends." She added
in a whisper, " ask her if there is no other news
at the town?"
t s
I
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
225
y
** What about," inquired her brother. A silent
look of reproach was her only reply, as she turned
away, and again busied herself with the silks. He
was instantly conscious and ashamed of his thought-
lessness, which, after a few moments' silence, he
proceeded to repair, saying, " Pray tell me. Miss
Jessie, has your father received no intelligence of
the 'Pride of the Ohio.'"
" Alas ! not a word," replied the girl, in a tone
of voice so melancholy, that it startled them both.
" But why speak you in so sad a voice about the
vessel, Jessie, if you have heard no bad news re-
garding her?" said Reginald, quickly.
" Because, sir, she has been very long over-due,
and there are many reports of French ships of
war ; and we, that is, ray father, is much interested
about her."
Poor Lucy's colour came and went ; but she had
li' t the courage to say a word. After a short
^}B ise, Reginald inquired, " Have any boats come
ap 'itely from New Orleans?"
■" Yes, sir, Henderson's came up only a few
days ago, and Henry Gregson, who had been
down on some busmess for my father, returned
in her."
"That is the young .nan who assists your fa-
thbv in the store ? I believe he is a son of the
l5
I H
Mil
lit !
226
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
mate on board the Pride. I have remarked that
he is a very fine looking young fellow !"
" He is the son of Captain Ethelston's mate,"
said Jessie, casting down her eyes, and busying
herself with some of her ribbons and silks. " But
I hope," continued she, " that you, Mr. Reginald,
are not seriously hurt. Mr. Perrot told me you
had beci »Tied and stabbed !"
" Not qu ) so bad as that," said Reginald,
laughing ; " I had, indeed, a swim in the Muskin-
gum, and a blow from a horse's hoof, but am none
the worse for either. Do not forget, Miss Jessie,
to send off a messenger immediately that any news
arrive of the Pride. You know what a favourite
she is, and how anxious we are here about her ! "
" Indeed I will not forget," replied Jessie.
Lucy sighed audibly; and after purchasing a
few ribbons and shawls, as well as a stock of beads
for her brother, she allowed Jessie to retire, beg-
ging, at the same time, her acceptance of one of
the prettiest shawls in her basket. As the latter
hesitated about receiving it, Lucy threw it over
the girl's shoulder, saying playfully, "Nay, Jessie,
no refusal ; I am mistress here ; and nobody, not
even Mr. Reginald, disputes my will in this room ?**
Jessie thanked the young lady, and saluting her
brother, withdrew to a bqpk parlour, where Mon-
\
m
THE PRAIRIE-BIItD.
227
sleur Perrot had already prepared his good things,
and where her father only waited her coming to
commence a dinner which his drive had made de-
sirable, and which his olfactory nerves told him
was more savory than the viands set before him
at Marietta by Mrs. Christie.
"Call ye this a squirrel ragoo?" said the worthy
Merchaunt ; *' weel now it 's an awfu' thing to
think how the Lord's gifts are abused in the auld
country ! I hae seen dizens o* they wee deevils
lilting and louping amaing the woods in the Lo-
thians ; and yet the hungry chaps wha*" can scarce
earn a basin o' porritch, or a pot o' kail to their
dinner, would as soon think o"" eatin'' a stoat or a
foumart!"
While making this observation, Davie was dis-
patching the "ragoo" with a satisfaction which
showed how completely he had overcome his insu-
lar prejudices. Nor were Perrot's culinary atten-
tions altogether lost upon Miss Jessie ; for although
she might not repay them entirely according to the
wishes of the gallant Maitre d'Hotel, she could not
help acknowledging that he was a pleasant good-
humoured fellow, and that his abilities as a cook
were of the highest order. Accordingly, when he
offered her a foaming glass of cider, she drank it
to his health, with a giance of her merry eye suffi-
ii
228
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
lll'lm
cient to have turned the head of a man less vain
and amorous than Monsieur Perrot.
The dinner passed pleasantly enough; and as
David Muir drove his daughter back to Marietta,
his heart being vv^armed and expanded by the gene-
rous cider (which, for the good of his health, he
had crowned with a glass of old rum), he said,
" Jessie, I'm thinkin, that Maister Parrot is a
douce and clever man; a lassie might do waur than
tak' up wi the like o* him ! I 'se warrant his nest
will no be ill feathered ! "
" Perhaps not,"' replied Jessie ; and turning her
head away, she sighed, and thought of Henry
Gregson.
\X
i'
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
229
CHAPTER XIII.
IN WHICH THE READER WILL FIND THAT THE COUCH OF AN
INVALID HAS PERILS NOT LESS FORMIDABLE THAN THOSE
WHICH ARE TO BE ENCOUNTERED AT SEA.
We left Ethelston stretched on a sick couch in
Guadaloupe, in the house of Captain L'Estrange,
and tended by his daughter Nina, and by her
brother, the young Ueutenant. The latter grew
daily more attached to the patient, who had been
his captor, and was now his prisoner ; but he was
obliged, as soon as Ethelston was pronounced out
of danger, to sail for Europe, as he was anxious
to obtain that professional distinction which his
parole prevented his gaining in service against the
United States. And in France there seemed a
promising harvest of combat and of glory, suflficient
to satisfy the martial enthusiasm even of the most
adventurous of her sons. When he sailed, he again
and again pressed upon his sister to bestow every
attention upon Ethelston ; and as the Captain was
' :*-'■
230
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
much busied with his command, and as Madame
L'Estrange was entirely devoted to her boudoir,
— where, with two chattering parrots to amuse
her, and a little black girl to fan her while list-
lessly poring over the pages of Florian in a fau-
teuil, — the whole charge devolved upon the willing
and kind-hearted Nina. She was the third and
youngest daughter of Monsieur and Madame
L'Estrange; but (her two elder sisters being mar-
ried) she was the only one resident with her
parents. - '»
Sixteen summers had now passed over her, and
her disposition was like that of her brother, —
frank, impetuous, and warm-hearted. Her feel-
ings had never been guided or regulated by her
handsome, but indolent mother; her mind had
been allowed to seek its food at hap-hazard, among
the romances, poems, and plays upon the shelves
in the drawing-room. Her father spoilt, and her
brother petted her. A governess also she had,
whom she governed, and to whose instructions she
owed little, except a moderate proficiency in music.
Her countenance was a very beautiful mirror^ re-
flecting the warm and impassioned features of
her character. Her complexion was dark, though
clear, and her hair black and glossy. The pen-
cilling of her eyebrows was exceedingly delicate ;
• /
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
231
and the eyes themselves were large, speaking, and
glowing with that humid lustre, which distin-
guishes Creole beauty. Nothing could exceed the
rosy fulness of her lip, and the even whiteness
of the teeth which her joyous smile disclosed.
Her figure was exquisitely proportioned; and her
every movement a very model of natural grace.
She seemed, indeed, impregnated with the fervour
of the sunny climate in which she had been reared ;
and her temper, her imagination, her passions, all
glowed with its ardent, but dangerous warmth.
According to the usage of her country, she had
been betrothed, when a child, to a neighbouring
planter, one of the richest in the island ; but as
he was absent in Europe, and there remained yet
two years before the time fixed for the fulfilment
of the contract, she rarely troubled her head about
the marriage, or her future destiny.
Such was the girl who now officiated as nurse
to Ethelston, and who, before she had seen him,
had gathered from her brother such traits of his
character, as had called forth all the interest and
sympathy of her romantic disposition. Although
not eminently handsome, we have before noted
that his countenance was manly and expressive,
and his manners courteous and engaging. Perhaps
also the weakness remaining after the crisis of his
i Hi
•m-^i
w\
232
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
fever, imparted, to the usually gentle expression
of his features, that touching attraction, which is
called by a modern poet " a loving languor." At
all events, certain it is, that ere poor Nina had
administered the third saline draught to her grate-
ful patient, her little heart beat vehemently ; and'
when she had attended his feverish couch one short
week, she was desperately in love !
How fared it in the meantime with Ethelstun?
Did his heart run any risk from the dark eloquent
eyes, and the gracefully rounded form of the minis-
tering angel who hovered about his sick room ?
At present none, for Lucy was shrined there ; and
he had been taught by young L'Estrange to con-
sider his sister in the light of a nursery-girl, still
under the dominion of the governess.
Days and weeks elapsed, Ethelston's recovery
progressed, and he was able to stroll in the shade
of the orange and citron-groves, which sheltered
Captain L'Estrange's villa to the northward. Here,
with his eyes fixed on the sea, would he sometimes
sit for hours, and devise schemes for returning to
his home. On these occasions he was frequently
accompanied by Nina, who walked by his side
with her guitar in her hand i and under the pre-
tence of receiving instructions from him in music,
she would listen with delight, and hang with rap-
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
233
ture, on every syllable that he uttered. Though
he could not avoid being sensible of her ripening
beauty, his heart was protected by the seven-fold
shield of a deep and abiding attachment; and as
he still looked upon Nina as a lovely girl, com-
pleting her education in the nursery, he gladly
gave her all the assistance that she asked under
her musical difficulties; and this he was able to
do, from having made no small proficiency in the
science during his long residence in Germany.
Sometimes he paid his respects to Madame L'Es-
trange ; but that lady was so indolent, and so ex-
clusively devoted to her parrots and her lap-dog,
that his visits to her were neither frequent, nor of
long duration. The Captain was very seldom
ashore ; and thus Ethelston was obliged to spend
his time alone, or in the society of the young
girl who had nursed him so kindly during his ill-
ness. Her character seemed to have undergone
a sudden and complete change. The conquering
god, who had at first only taken possession of the
outworks of her fancy, had now made himself
master of the citadel of her heart. She loved
with all the intense, absorbing passion of a na-
ture that had never known control. The gaiety
and buoyancy of her spirits had given place to
a still, deep flood of feeling, which her reason
234
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
'
in 1
never attempted to restrain. Even when with
him she spoke little. Her happiness was too
iiltense to find a vent in words ; and thus she
nursed and fed a flame, that needed only the
breath of accident to make it burst forth with a
violence that should burn up, or overleap all the
barriers of self-control.
Nor must the reader imagine that Ethelston was
dull or blind, because he observed not the state
of Nina's affections. His own were firmly rooted
elsewhere ; he was neither of a vain, nor a romantic
disposition; and he had been duly informed by
Monsieur L'Estrange, that in the course of two
years Nina was to be married to Monsieur Ber-
trand, the young planter, to whom, as we have
before mentioned, she had been betrothed by her
parents since her thirteenth year. He could not
help seeing that although her intellect was quick,
and her character enthusiastic, her education had
been shamefully neglected both by Madame L'Es-
trange and the governess. Hence he spoke, coun-
selled, and sometimes chid her, in the tone of an
elder brother, heedless of the almost impercep-
tible line that separates friendship from love
in the bosom of a girl nurtured under a West
Indian sun.
In this state were matters, when, on a fine
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
2«r)
evening, Ethelston strolled alone into his favourite
orange-grove, to look out upon the ocean, And in
the enjoyment of its refreshing breeze, to ruminate
on his strange captivity, and revolve various plans
of escape.
Captain L'Estrange had paid a visit to his home
on the preceding day, and finding his prisoner so
completely restored to health and strength, had
said to him, jokingly, " Indeed, fair sir, I think I
must put you on your parole, or in chams; for
after the character given of you by my son, I can-
not allow so dangerous a person to be at large
during the continuance of hostilities between our
respective nations."
Ethelston answered half in earnest, and half in
jest, " Nay, sir, then I must wear the chains, for
assuredly I cannot give my parole; if an American
vessel were to come in sight, or any other means
of flight to offer itself, depend upon it, in spite of
the kindness and hospitality I have met with here,
I should weigh anchor in a moment."
" Well, that is a fair warning," said the old
Commodore; "nevertheless I will not lock you
up just yet, for I do not think it very likely that
any straii^^e sail will come under the guns of our
fort ; and I will run the risk of your flying away
on the back of a sea-gull." Thus had they
HkP'
li'M
236
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
parted; and the old gentleman was again absent
on a cruise. >
Ethelston was, as we have said, reclining list-
lessly under an orauge-tree, iibaling the copl
breeze, laden with the fragrance nf its blossoms,
now devising impossible plans ot escape, and
now musing on a vision of Lucy's graceful figure
gliding among the deep woods around Mooshanne.
As these thoughts passed through his mind, they
imparted a melancholy shade to his brow, and a
deep sigh escaped from his lips.
It was echoed by one yet deeper, close to his
ear ; and starting from his reverie, he beheld Nina,
who had e>jproached him unawares, and who, lean-
ing on her guitar, had been for the last few minutes
gazing on his countenance with an absorbed inten-
sity, more fond and riveted than that with which
the miser regards his treasure, or the widowed
mother her only child.
When she found herself perceived, she came
forward, and covering her emotion under an as-
sumed gaiety, she said, " What is my kind instruc-
tor thinking of? He seems more grave and sad
than usual."
•' He is thinking," said Ethelston, good-hu-
mouredly, '* that he ought to scold a certain young
lady very severely for coming upon him slily, and
THE PRAIRIF-BIRD.
237
witnessing that gravity and sadness in which a
captive must sometimes indulge, but which her
presence has already dissipated."
" Nay," said Nina, still holding her guitar, and
sitting down on the bank near him ; '* you know
that I am only obeying papa's orders in watching
you ; for he says you would not give your parole,
and I am sure you were thinking of your escape
from Guadaloupe."
** Perhaps you might have guessed more wide of
the mark, Mademoiselle Nina," said Ethelston.
"And are you then so very anxious to — to— see
your home again?" inquired Nina, hesitating.
" Judge for yourself, Nina," he replied, " when
I remind you that for many months I have heard
nothing of those who have been my nearest and
dearest friends from childhood; nothing of the
brave men who were captured with me when our
poor brig was lost !"
"Tell me about your friends, and your home.
Is it very beautiful? Have you the varm sun,
and the fresh sea-breeze, and the orange-flowers,
that we have here ?"
" Scarcely," replied Ethelston, smiling at the
earnest rapidity with which the beautiful girl based
her inquiries on the scene before her; "but we
have in their place rivers on the bosom of which
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THE PRAIRIE- BIRD.
your father's frigate might sail ; groves and woods
of deep shade, impenetrable to the rays of the
hottest sun: and prairies smiling with the most
brilliant and variegated flowers."
" Oh ! how I should love to see that land !"
exclaimed Nina, her fervid imagination instantly
grasping and heightening its beauties. " How I
should love to dwell there I""
" Nay, it appears to me not unlikely that you
should at some time visit it," replied Ethelston.
" This foolish war between our countries will soon
be over, and your father may wish to see a region
the scenery of which is so magnificent, and which
is not diflScult of access from here."
" Papa will never leave these islands, unless he
goes to France, and that he hates," said Nina.
"Well then," continued Ethelston, smiling, as
he alluded for the first time to her marriage, " you
must defer your American trip a year or two
longer; then, doubtless. Monsieur Berlrand will
gladly gratify your desire to see the Mississippi."
Nina started as if stung by an adder ; the blood
rushed and mantled over her fa' 3 and neck; her
eyes glowed with indignation, as she exclaimed, " I
abhor and detest Monsieur Bertrand. I would die
before I would marry him ! " Then adding in a low
voice, the sadness of which went to his heart, "and
THE PRATRIE-BIRD.
239
this from you too ! " She covered her face with
her hands and wept. '
Never was man more astonished than Ethelston
at the sudden storm which he had inadvertently
raised. Remembering that Madame L'Estrange
had told him of the engagement as being known
to Nina, he had been led to suppose from her
usual flow of spirits, that the prospect was far from
being disagreeable to her. Young L'Estrange had
also told him that Bertrand was a good-looking
man, of high character, and considered, from his
wealth, as the best match in the French islands;
so that Ethelston was altogether unprepared for
the violent aversion which Nina now avowed for
the marriage, and for the grief b_ vhich she
seemed so deeply agitated. Still he was as far as
ever from divining the true cause of her emotion,
and conjectured that she had probably formed an
attachment to one of the young officers on board
her father's ship. Under this impression he took
her hand, and sympathising with the grief of one
so fair and so young, he said to her, kindly, " For-
give me, Nina, if I have said anything to hurt
your feelings ; indeed I always have believed that
your engagement to Monsieur Bertrand was an
affair settled by your parents entirely with your
consent I am sure Monsieur L'Estrange loves
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
HI I I
his favourite child too well to compel her to a
marriage against her inclination. Will you per-
mit your Mentor (as you have more than once
allowed me to call myself) to speak with him on
the subject?"
Nina made no reply, and the tears coursed each
other yet faster down her cheek.
" Your brother is absent," continued Ethelston ;
" you seem not to confide your little secrets to
your mother — will you not let me aid you by my
advice ? I am many years older than you. — I am
deeply grateful for all your kindness during my
tedious illness; believe me, I will, if you will only
trust me, advise you with the affectionate interest
of a parent, or an elder brother."
The little hand trembled violently in his, but
still no reply escaped from Nina's lips.
" If you will not tell me your secret," pursued
Ethelston, "I must guess it. Your aversion to
the engagement arises not so much from your dis-
like to Monsieur Bertrand, as from your prefer-
ence of some other whom perhaps your parents
would not approve ? " ^,
The hand was withdrawn, being employed in an
ineffectual attempt to check her tears. The slight
fillet which bound her black tresses ad given way,
and they now fell in disorder, veiling the deep
H
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
241
an
^ght
'ay,
leep
crimson glow which again mantled over the neck
of the weeping girl.
Ethelston gazed on her with emotions of deep
sympathy. There was a reality, a dignity about
her speechless grief that must have moved a
sterner heart than his; and as he looked upon
the heaving of her bosom, and upon the exquisite
proportions unconsciously developed in her atti-
tude, he suddenly felt that he was speaking, not
to a child in the nursery, but to a girl in whose
form and heart the bud and blossom of woman-
hood were thus early ripened. It was, therefore,
in a tone, not less kind, but more respectful than
he had hitherto used, that he said, *' Nay, Nina,
I desire not to pry into your secrets — I only wish
to assure you of the deep sympathy which I feel
with your sorrow, and of my desire to aid or com-
fort you by any means within my power; but if
my curiosity offends you, I will retire in the hope
that your own gentle thoughts may soon afford you
reUef."
Again the little hand was laid upon his arm,
as Nina, still weeping, whispered, " No, no, — you
do not offend me. — Do not leave me, I entreat
you!"
A painful silence ensued, and Ethelston more
than ever confirmed in the belief that she had be-
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
Stowed her affections on some young middy, or
lieutenant, under her father's command, continued
in a tone which he attempted to render, gay:
" Well then, Nina, since you will not give your
confidence to Mentor, he must appoint himself
your confessor; and to commence, he is right in
believing that your dislike to Monsieur Bertrand
arises from your having given your heart else-
where ? " i
There was no reply ; but her head was bowed in
token of acquiescence !
" I need not inquire," pursued he, " whether
the object of your choice is, in rank and character,
worthy of your aifection?"
In an instant the drooping head was raised, and
the dark tresses thrown back from her brow, as,
with her eyes flashing through the moisture by
which they were still bedewed, Nina replied,
" Worthy ! — worthy the affection of a queen !"
Ethelston, startled by her energy, was about to
resume his inquiries, when Nina, whose excited
spirit triumphed for the moment over all restraint,
stopped him, saying, *' I will spare you the trouble
of further questions. I will tell you freely, that
till lately, very lately, I cared for none. — Monsieur
Bertrand and all others were alike to me ; but fate
threw a stranger in my path. — He was a friend of
4
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
243
my brother; — he was wouuded. — For hours and
hours I watched by his couch ; — he revived ; —
his looks were gentle; his voice was music. — I
drew counsel from his lips ; — he filled my thoughts,
my dreams, my heart, my being! But he — he
considered me only as a silly child ; — he under-
stood not my heart; — he mocked my agony; — he
saved my brother's life, — and is now accomplishing
the sister's death !"
The excitement which supported Nina during
the commencement of this speech, gradually died
away. Towards its close, her voice grew tremu-
lous, and as the last words escaped her quivering
lips, exhausted nature gave way under the burden
of her emotion, and she fainted !
The feelings of Ethelston may be better ima-
gined than described. As the dreadful import of
the poor girl's words gradually broke upon him,
his cheeks grew paler and paler; and when, at
their conclusion, her senseless form lay extended
at his feet, the cold dew of agony stood in drops
upon his forehead ! But Nina's condition de-
manded immediate aid and attention. Mastering
himself by a powerful effort, he snatched a lemon
from a neighbouring tree; he cut it in half, and
sustaining the still insensible girl, he chafed her
hands, and rubbed her temples with the cool re-
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244
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
freshing juice of the fruit. After a time, he had
the consolation of seeing her restored gradually to
her senses ; and a faint smile came over her coun-
tenance as she found herself supported by his arm.
Still she closed her eyes, as if in a happy dream,
which Ethelston could not bring himself to disturb ;
and, as the luxuriant black tresses only half veiled
the touching beauty of her countenance, he groaned,
at the reflection that he had inadvertently been the
means of shedding the blight of unrequited love on
a budding flower of such exquisite loveliness. A
long silence ensued, softened, rather than inter-
rupted, by the low wind as it whispered through
the leaves of the orange grove; while the sur-
rounding landscape, and the wide expanse of
ocean, glowed with the red golden tints of the
parting sun. No unplighted heart could have re-
sisted all the assailing temptations of that hour.
But Ethelston's heart was not unplighted ; and
the high 'principle and generous warmth of his
nature served only to deepen the pain and sad-
ness of the present moment. He formed, how-
ever, his resolution ; and as soon as he found that
Nina was restored to consciousness and to a cer-
tain degree of composure, he gently withdrew
the arm which had supported her, and said, in a
voice of most melancholy earnestness, " Dear
i;ll
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
245
i
Nina! I will not pretend to misunderstand what
you have said. — I have much to tell you; but I
have not now enough command over myself to
speak, while you are still too agitated to listen.
Meet me here to-morrow at this same hour; mean-
while, I entreat you, recal those harsh and unkind
thoughts which you entertained of me; and believe
me, dear, dear sister, that I would, rather than
have mocked your feelings, have died on that fe-
verish couch, from which your care revived me."
So saying, he hastened from her presence in a
tumult of agitation scarcely less than her own.
For a long time she sat motionless, in a kind of
waking dream ; his parting words yet dwelt in her
ear, and her passionate heart construed them now
according to its own wild throbbings, now accord-
ing to its gloomiest fears. " He has much to tell
me," mused she ; " he called me dear Nina ; he
spoke not in a voice of indiflPerence ; his eye was
full of a troubled expression that I could not read.
Alas ! alas, 'twas only pity ! He called me ' dear
sister I" — what can he mean? — Oh that to-morrow
were come I I shall not outlive the night unless
I can believe that he loves me I" And then she fell
again into a reverie; during which all the looks
and tones that her partial fancy had interpreted,
and her too faithful memory had treasured, were
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
recalled, and repeated in a thousand shapes ; until
exhausted by her agitation, and warned by the
darkness of the hour, Nina retired to her sleepless
couch. ' *
Meanwhile Ethelston, when he found himself
alone in his room, scrutinized with the most un-
sparing severity his past conduct, endeavouring to
remember every careless or unheeded word by
which he could have awakened or encouraged her
unsuspected affection. He could only blame him-
self that he had not been more observant; that he
had considered Nina too much in the light of a
child ; and had habitually spoken to her in a tone
of playful and confidential familiarity. Thus,
though his conscience acquitted him of the most
remote intention of trifling with her feelings, he
accused himself of having neglected to keep a
watchful guard over his language and behaviour,
and resolved, at the risk of incurring her anger
or her hatred, to tell her firmly and explicitly on
the morrow, that he could not requite her attach-
ment as it deserved, his heart having been long
and faithfully devoted to another.
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
247
CHAPTER XIV.
NARRATING THE TRIALS AND DANGERS THAT BESET ETHELSTON ;
AND HOW HE ESCAPED FROM THEM, AND FROM THE ISLAND
OF GUADALOUPE.
The night succeeding the occurrences related
in the last chapter brought little rest to the pil-
low either of Nina or of Ethelston; and on the
following day, as if by mutual agreement, they
avoided each other's presence, until the hour ap-
pointed for their fleeting again in the orange
grove. Ethelston was firmly resolved to explain
to her unreservedly his long engagement to Lucy,
hoping that the feelings of Nina would prove, in
this instance, rather impetuous than permanent.
The tedious day appeared to her as if it never
would draw to a close. She fled from her mother,
and from the screaming parrots; she tried the
guitar, but it seemed tuneless and discordant ; her
pencil and her book were, by turns, taken up, and
as soon laid aside; she strolled even at mid-day
into the orange grove, to the spot where she had
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THE PRAIRIE-BTRD.
Hi! I
last sat by him, and a blush stole over her cheek
when she remembered that she had been betrayed
into an avowal of her love; and then came the
doubt, the inquiry, whether he felt any love for
her? Thus did she muse and ponder, until the
hours, which in the morning had appeared to
creep so slowly over the face of the lial, now
glided unconsciously forward. The dinner-hour
had passed unheeded; and before she had sum-
moned any of the courage and firmness which she
meant to call to her aid, Ethelston stood before
her. He was surprised at finding Nina on this
spot, and had approached it long before the ap-
pointed time, in order that he might prepare him-
self for the difficult and painful task which he
had undertaken. But though unprepared, his
mind was of too firm and regulated a character
to be surprised out of a fixed determination;
and he came up and offered his hand to Nina,
greeting her in his accustomed tone of familiar
friendship. She received his salutation with evi-
dent embarrassment ; her hand and her voice
trembled, and her bosom throbbed in a tumult
of anxiety and expectation. Ethelston saw that
he could not defer the promised explanation ; and
he commenced it with his usual gentleness of
manner, but with a firm resolve that he would
r 1} , ' 1
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
249
be honest and explicit in his language. He be-
gan by referring to his long illness, and, with
gratitude, to her care and attention during its
continuance; he assured her, that having been
told both by Madame L'Estrange and her brother,
that she was affianced to Monsieur Bertrand, he
Ifad accustomed himself to look on her as a
younger sister, and, as such, had ventured to offer
her advice and instruction in her studies. He
knew not, he dreamt not, that she could ever look
upon him in any other light than that of a Mentor.
Here he paused a moment, and continued in
a deeper and more earnest tone, " Nina — dear
Nina, we must be as Mentor and his pupil to
each other, or we must part. I will frankly lay
my heart open to you. I will conceal nothing ;
then you will not blame me, and will, I hope,
permit me to remain your grateful friend and
brother. Nina, I am not blind either to your
beauty, or to the many, many graces of your
disposition. I do full justice to the warmth and
truth of your affections : you deserve, when loved,
to be loved with a whole heart — "
" O spare this ! " interrupted Nina, in a hurried
whisper; " Spare this, speak of yourself!"
" I was even about to do so," continued Ethel-
ston ; " but, Nina, such a heart I have not to give.
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
For many months and years, before I ever saw
or knew you, I have loved, and still am betrothed
to another."
A cold shudder seemed to pass through Nina's
frame while these few words were spoken, as if
in a moment the health, the hope, the blossom
of her youth were blighted ! Not a tear, not even
a 8«'>h gave relief to her agony; her bloodless
lip trembled in a vain attempt to speak she knew
not what, and a burning chill sat upon her heart.
These words may appear to some strange and
contradictory : happy, thrice happy ye, to whom
they so appear ! If you have never known what
it is to feel at once a scorching heat parching the
tongue, and drying up all the well-springs of life
within, while a leaden weight of ice seems to be-
numb the heart, then have you never known the
sharpest, extreme pangs of disappointed love !
Ethelston was prepared for some sudden and
violent expression on the part of Nina, but this
death-like, motionless silence almost overpowered
him. He attempted, by the gentlest and the
kindest words, to arouse her from this stupor of
grief. He took her hand ; its touch was cold.
Again and again he called her name; but her ear
seemed insensible even to his voice. At length.
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
251
unable to bear the sight of her distress, and fear-
ful that he might no longer restrain his tongue
from uttering words which would be treason to
his first and faithful love, he rushed into the
house, and hastily informing Nina's governess that
her pupil had been suddenly taken ill in the
olive-grove, he locked himself in his room, and
gave vent to the contending emotions by which he
was oppressed.
It was in vain that he strove to calm himself
by the reflection that he had intentionally trans-
gressed none of the demands of truth and honour ;
— it was in vain that he called up all the long-
cherished recollections of his Lucy and his home ;
— still the image of Nina would not be banished ;
now presenting itself as he had seen her yester-
day, in the full glow of passion, and in the full
bloom of youthful beauty, — and now, as he had
just left her, in the deadly paleness and fixed apathy
of despair. The terrible thought that, whether
guiltily or innocently, he had been the cause of
all this sufiering in one to whom he owed pro-
tection and gratitude, wrung his heart with pain
that he could not repress; and he found relief
only in falling on his knees, and praying to the
Almighty that the sin might not be laid to his
252
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charge, and that Nina's sorrow might be soothed
and comforted by Him, who is the God of conso-
lation.
Meanwhile the governess had, with the assist-
ance of two of the negro attendants, brought
Nina into the house. The poor girl continued in
the same state of insensibility to all that was pass-
ing around ; her eyes were open, but she seemed
to recognize no one, and a few vague indistinct
words still trembled on her lips.
The doctor was instantly summoned, who pro-
nounced, as soon as he had seen his patient, that
she was in a dangerous fit, using sundry myste-
rious expressions about "febrile symptoms,"" and
" pressure on the brain," to which the worthy
leech added shakings of the head yet more mys-
terious.
For many days her condition continued alarm-
ing ; the threatened fever came, and with it a pro-
tracted state of delirium. During this period
Ethelston's anxiety and agitation were extreme;
and proportionate was the relief that he expe-
rienced, when he learnt that the crisis was past,
and that the youthful strength of her constitution
promised speedy recovery.
Meanwhile he had to endure the oft-repeated
inquiries of the Governess, "How he happened
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
253
to find Mademoiselle just as the fit came on?"
and of Madame UEstrange, " How it was pos-
sible for Nina to be attacked by so sudden an
illness, while walking in the orange-grove ? "
When she was at length pronounced out of
danger, Ethelston again began to consider various
projects for his meditated escape from the island.
He had more than once held communication with
his faithful Cupid on the subject, who was ready
to brave all risks in the service of his master ;
but the distance which must be traversed, before
they could expect to find a friendly ship or coast,
seemed to exclude all reasonable hope of success.
It would be impossible to follow and pourtray
the thousand changes that came over Nina's spirit
during her recovery. She reme nbered but too well
the words that Ethelston had last spoken ; at one
moment she called him perfidious, ungrateful,
heartless ; then she chid herself for railing at him,
and loaded his name with every blessing, and the
expression of the fondest affection; now she re-
solved that she would never see nor speak to
him more; then she thought that she must see
him, if it were only to show how she had con-
quered her weakness. Amidst all these contend-
ing resolutions, she worked herself into the belief
that Ethelston had deceived her, and that, because
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THE PRAIRIE -BIRD.
he thought her a child, and did not love her, he
had invented the tale of his previous engagement
to lessen her mortification. This soon became her
settled conviction ; and when it crossed her mind,
she would start with passion and exclaim, " He
shall yet love me, and me, alone ! "
The only confidant ^ of her love was a young
negress who waited upon her, and who was in-
deed so devoted to her that she would have braved
the Commodore's utmost wrath, or perilled her
life to execute her mistress' commands.
It happeneu one evening that this girl, whose
name was Fanchette, went out to gather some
fruit in the orange-grove ; and while thus em-
ployed she heard the voice of some one speaking.
On drawing nearer to the spot whence the sound
proceeded, she saw Ethelston sitting under the
deep shade of a tree, with what appeared a book
before him.
Knowing that Nina was still confined to her
room, he had resorted hither to consider his
schemes without interruption, and was so busily
employed in comparing distances, and calculating
possibilities, on the map before him, that Fan-
chette easily crept to a place whence she could,
unperceived, overhear and observe him. *' I must
and will attempt it,^' he muttered aloud to him-
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THE PRAIRIE- BIRD.
253
self, *' we must steal a boat. Cupid and I can
manage it between us ; my duty and my love both
forbid my staying longer here ; with a fishing-boat
we might reach Antigua or Dominica, or at all
events chance to fall in with an American or a
neutral vessel. Poor dear Nina," he added, in a
lower tone. ** Would to God I had never visited
this shore ! thist* he continued, drawing a locket
from his breast, " this treasured remembrance of
one far distant has made me proof ^gainst thy
charms, cold to thy love, but not, as Heaven is
my witness, unmoved or insensible to thy suffer-
ings." So saying he relapsed into silent musing,
and as he replaced the locket, Fanchette crept
noiselessly from her concealment, and ran to com-
municate to her young mistress her version of
what she had seen. Being very imperfectly skilled
in English, she put her own construction upon
those few words which she had caught, and
thought to serve Nina best by telling her what
she would most like to hear. Thus she described
to her how Ethelston had spoken to himself over
a map; how he had mentioned islands to which
he would sail ; how he had named her name with
tenderness, and had taken something from his vest
to press it to his lips.'*
Poor Nina listened in a tumult of joy ; her pas-
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
sionate heart would admit no doubting suggestion
of her reason. She was too happy to bear even
the presence of Fanchette, and rewarding her for
her good news by the present of a beautiful shawl
which she wore at the moment, pushed the de-
lighted little negress out of the room, and threw
herself on her couch, where she repeated a hun-
dred times that he had been to her orange-grove,
where they had last parted, had named her name
with tendejfnesB, had pressed some token to his
lips — what could that be ? It might be a flower,
a book, anything — it mattered not — so long as she
only knew he loved her ! Having long wept with
impassioned joy, she determined to show herself
worthy of his love, and the schemes which she
formed, and resolved to carry into effect, evinced
the wild force and energy of her romantic charac-
ter. Among her father''s slaves was one who, being
a steady and skilful seaman, had the charge of a
schooner (originally an American prize) which lay
in the harbour, and which the Commodore some-
times used as a pleasure-yacht, or for short trips
to other parts of the island: this man (whose name
was Jacques) was not only a great favourite with
the young lady, but was also smitten with the
black eyes and plump charms of M'amselle Fan-
chette, who thus exercised over him a sway little
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
257
short of absolute. Nina having held a conference
with her abigail, sent for Jacques, who was also
admitted to a confidential consultation, the result
of which, after occurrences will explain to the
reader. When this was over, she acquired rather
than assumed a sudden composure and cheerful-
ness ; the delights of a plot seemed at once to re-
store her to health ; and on the following day she
sent to request that Ethelston would come to see
her in her boudoir where she received him with a
calmness and self-possession for which he was alto-
gether unprepared. "Mr. Ethelston," said she,
as soon as he was seated, " I believe you still
desire to escape from your prison, and that you
are devising various plans for effecting that object;
you will never succeed unless you call' me into
your counsel."
Ethelston, though extremely surprised at the
composure of her manner and language, replied
with a smile, " M'amselle Nina, I will not deny
that you have rightly guessed my thoughts; but
as your father is my jailor, I did not dare to ask
your counsel in this matter."
" Well, Mr. Mentor," said the wayward girl,
" how does your wisdom propose to act without my
counsel ?"
I confess I am somewhat at a loss,"" said
((
258
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
Ethelston, good-humouredly ; "I must go either
through the air or the water, and the latter, being
my proper element, is the path which I would
rather attempt."
** And what should you think of me, if I were to
play the traitoress, and aid you in eluding the
vigilance of my father, and afford the means of
escape to so formidable an enemy ?"
Ethelston was completely puzzled by this play-
ful tone of banter in one whom he had last seen
under a paroxysm of passion, and in whose dark
eye there yet lurked an expression which he could
not define ; but he resolved to continue the conver-
sation in the same spirit, and replied <* I would
not blame you for this act of filial disobedience,
and though no longer your father''s prisoner, I
would, if I escaped, ever remain his friend."
** And would you show no gratitude to the lady
who effected your release ? "
" I owe her already more — far more, than I can
pay ; and, for this last crowning act of her genero-
sity and kindness, I would — "
As he hesitated, she inquired, abruptly, "You
would what, Ethelston ? " For a moment she
had forgotten the part she was acting, and both
the look that accompanied these words, and the
tone in which they were pronounced, reminded
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
259
him that he stood on the brink of a volcanic
crater.
** I would give her any proof of my gratitude
that she would deign to accept, yes awy," he re-
peated earnestly, " even to life itself, knowing that
she is too noble and generous to accept aught at
my hands which faith and honour forbid me to
offer." ,
Nina turned aside for a moment, overcome by
her emotion; but recovering herself quickly, she
added, in her former tone of pleasantry, " She will
not impose any hard conditions ; but to the pur-
pose, has your sailor-eye noticed a certain little
schooner anchored in the harbour ?"
"What!" said Ethelson, eagerly, "a beautiful
craft of about twenty tons, on the other side of the
bay?''
" Even the same.'"
" Surely I have ! She is American built, and
swims like a duck."
«< Well then," replied Nina, « I think I shall do
no great harm in restoring her to an American !
How many men should you require to manage
her?"
" I could sail her easily with one able seaman
besides my black friend Cupid."
" Then," said Nina, " I propose to lend her to
i'biii
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260
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
.I'l
you ; you may send her back at your convenience,
and I will also provide you an able seaman ; write
me a list of the stores and articles which you will
require for the trip, and send it me in an hour's
time: prepare your own baggage, and be ready
upon the shortest notice ; it is now my turn to
command and yours to obey. Good-b'ye, Mr.
Mentor." So saying, she kissed her hand to him,
and withdrew.
Ethelston rubbed his eves as if he did not be-
lieve their evidence. " Could his merry, ready-
witted girl be the same as the Wina whom he had
seen, ten days before, heart-broken, and unable to
conceal or repress the violence of her passion?"
The longer he mused, the more was he puzzled ;
and he came at length to a conclusion at which m^ny
more wise and more foolish than himself had ar-
rived, that a woman's mind, when influenced by
her affections, is a riddle hard to be solved. He
had not, however, much time for reflection, and
being resolved at all risks to escape from the
island, he hastened to his room, and within the
hour specified by Nina, sent her a list of the stores
and provisions for the voyage. ^
Meanwhile Fanchette had not been idle, she
had painted to Jacques, in the liveliest colours,
the vsealth, beauty, and freedom of the distant
THE PRAIRIE-niRD.
261
land of Ohio, artfully mingling with this descrip-
tion promises and allurements which operated
more directly on the feelings of her black swain,
80 that the latter, finding himself entreated by
Fanchette, and commanded by his young mistress,
hesitated no longer to betray his trust and desert
the Commodore.
Ethelston, having communicated the prosperous
state of affairs to Cupid, and desired him to have
all ready for immediate escape, hastened to obey
another summons sent to him by Nina ; he found
her in a mood no less cheerful than before, and
although she purposely averted her face, a smile,
the meaning of which he could not define, played
round the corner of her expressive mouth. Though
really glad to escape homeward, and disposed to be
grateful to Nina for her aid, he could not help
feeling angry and vexed at the capricious eagerness
with which she busied herself in contriving the de-
parture of one to whom she had so lately given
the strongest demonstration of tenderness ; and
although his heart told him that he could not love
her, there was something in this easy and sudden
withdrawal of her affection which wounded that
self-love from which the best of men are not alto-
gether free. These feelings gave an unusual cold-
ness and constraint to hia manner, when he inquired
her further commands.
;■ (
i
I
?:!
f.
I ll
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262
THE PRAIRIE-niRD.
To this question Nina replied by saying,
*' Then, Mr. Ethelston, you are quite resolved to
leave us, and to risk all the chances and perils
of this voyage ?" .,• .. r
" Quite," he replied : " it is my wish, my duty,
and my firm determination ; and I entered the
room," he added, almost in a tone of reproof,
" desirous of repeating to you my thanks for your
kind assistance/^
Nina's countenance changed ; but, ctill averting
it from Ethelston, she continued in a lower voice,
" And do you leave us without pain — without
regret?"
There was a tremor, a natural feeling in the
tone in which she uttered these few words, that
recalled to his mind all that he had seen her suffer,
and drove from it the harsh thoughts which he
had begun to entertain, and he answered in a
voice from which his self-command could not ba-
nish all traces of emotion, " Dear Nina, I shall
leave you with regret that would amount to misery,
if I thought that my visit had brought any per-
manent unhappiness into this house. I desire to
leave you as a Mentor should leave a beloved
pupil — as a brother leaves a sister: with a full
hope that when I am gone you will fulfil your
parents' wishes, your own auspicious destinies,
THE TRAIRIE-DIRD.
263
and that, after years and years of happiness among
those whom Fate has decreed to be the compa-
nions of your life, you will look back upon me
as upon a faithful adviser of your youth, — an
affectionate friend who "
Nina's nerves were not strung for the part she
had undertaken; gradually her countenance had
grown pale as marble; a choking sensation op-
pressed her throat, and she sunk in a chair, sob-
bing, rather than uttering, the word *' Water."
It was fortunately at hand, and having placed it
in a glass by her side, Ethelston retired to 'the
window to conceal his own emotion, and to allow
time for that of- Nina to subside.
After a few minutes she recovered her self-
possession; and although still deadly pale, her
voice was distinct and firm, as she said, " Ethel-
ston, I am ashamed of this weakness; but it is
over : we will not speak of the past, and will leave
to Fate the future. Now listen to me : all the
arrangements for your departure will be complete
by to-morrow evening. At an hour before mid-
night a small boat, with one man, will be at the
Quai du Marche, below the Place St. Louis. It
is far from the fort, and there is no sentry near
the spot; you can then row to the vessel and
depart But is it not too dangerous?" she added ;
til
■■ \
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Hill
264
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
*' Can you risk it? for the wind whistles terribly,
and I fear the approach of a hurricane !"
Ethelston's eye brightened as he replied, " A
rough night is the fairest for the purpose,
Nina."
" Be it so," she replied. " Now, in return for
all l^hat I have done for you, there is only one
favour I have to ask at your hands."
" Name it," said Ethelston, eagerly.
" There is," she continued, " a poor sick youth
in the town, the child of respectable parents in
New Orleans; he desires to go home, if it be
only to die there: and a nurse will take care
of Km on the passage if you will let him go
with you ?"
" Assuredly I will," said Ethelston ; " and will
take as much care of him as if he were my bro-
ther,"
" Nay,"' said Nina, " they tell me he is ordered
to be perfectly quiet, and no one attends him but
the nurse ; neither will he give any trouble, as the
coxswain says there ib a small cabin where he
can remain alone and undisturbed.'"
« You may depend," said Ethelston, " that all
your orders about him shall be faithfully per-
formed ; and I will see, if I live, that he reaches
his home in safety."
THE rRATRIE-BIRD.
265
" He and his nurse will be on board before
you/"' said Nina : " and as soon as you reach
the vessel, you have nothing to do but to escape
as quick as you can. Now I must bid you fare-
well ! I may not have spirits to ^ee you again !"
She held out her hand to him ; it was cold as ice ;
her face was still half-averted, and her whole frame
trembled violently.
Ethelston took the offered hand, and pressed
it to his hps, saying, " A thousand, thousand
thanks for all your kindn ess ! If I reach home
alive I will make your honoured father ample
amends for the theft of his schooner ; and if ever
you have an opportunity to let me know that
you are well and happy, do not forget that such
news will always gladden my heart." He turned
to look at her as he went ; he doubted whether
the cold rigid apath- of her form and countenance
was that of despair or of indifference; but he
dared not trust himself longer in her pre-
sence; and as he left the room she sunk on the
chair against which she had been leaning for
support.
When Ethelston found himself alone, he col-
lected his thoughts, and endeavoured in vain to
account for the strange deportment of Nina in
bidding him farewell. The coldness of her man-
VOL. I.
N
266
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
i
ner, the abrupt brevity of her parting address, had
surprised him ; and yet the tremor, the emotion,
amounting almost to fainting, the forced tone of
voice in which she had spoken, all forbad him
to hope that she had overcome her unhappy
passion ; he was grieved that he had scarcely
parted from her in kindness, and the pity with
which he regarded her was, for the moment, al-
most akin to love.
Shaking off this temporary weakness, he em-
ployed himself forthwith in the preparations for
his departure; among the first of which was a
letter, which he wrote to Captain L'Estrange, and
left upon his table. On the following day he
never once saw Nina; but he heard from one
of the slaves that she was confined to her room
by severe headach.
The wind blew with unabated force, the even-
ing was dark and lowering, as, at the appointed
hour, Ethelston, accompanied by his faithful Cu-
pid, left the house with noiseless step. They
reached the boat without obstruction ; pushed
off, and in wn minutes were safe on deck : the
coxswain whispered that all was ready; the boat
was hoisted up, the anchor weighed, and the
schooner was soon dashing the foam from her
bows on the open sea.
m ll, ,:]■
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
267
CHAPTER XV.
WHAT TOOK PLACE AT MOOSHANNE DURING TIVE STAY OF
ETHELSTON IN GUADALOUPE. — DEPARTURE OF REGINALD FOR
THE FAR- WEST,
While the events related in the last two chap-
ters occurred at Guadaloupe, Reginald was busily
employed at Mooshanne in completing the pre-
parations for his projected visit to the Delawares,
in the Far- west; he had (by putting in practice
the instructions given him by War-Eagle respecting
Nekimi) at length succeeded in gaining that noble
animal's affection; he neighed at Reginald's ap-
proach, knew and obeyed his voice, fed from his
hand, and received and returned his caresses, as he
had before done those of his Indian master. Jt
was when nuiunted on Nekimi that our hero found
his spirit most exulting and buoyant ; he gave him
the rein on the broadest of the neighbouring prai-
ries, and loved to feel the springy fleetness and
untiring muscles of this child of tlie western de-
sert. Sometimes, after a gallop of many miles, he
N 2
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268
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
would leap from the saddle, to look with pride and
pleasure on the spirited eye, the full veins, the
expanded nostril of his favourite; at other times he
would ride him slowly through the most tangled
and difficult ground, admiring the instinctive and
unerring sagacity with which he picked his way.
Among Reginald's other accomplishments, he
had learnt in Germany to play not unskilfully
on the horn; and constantly carrying his bugle
across his shoulders, Nekimi grew so accustomed
to the sound, that he would come to it from any
distance within hearing of its call. It appeared to
Reginald so probable that the bugle might render
him good service on his summer excursion, that he
not only practised his horse to it, but he prevailed
on Baptiste to learn his various signals, and even
to reply on another horn to some of the simplest
of them. The honest guide's first attempts to
sound the bugle were ludicrous in the extreme;
but he good-humouredly persevered, until Regi-
nald and he could, from a considerable distance,
exchange many useful signals agreed upon be-
tween them, and of course intelligible to none but
themselves. Among these were the following:
" Beware !" — « Come to me," — « Be still," —
" Bring my horse," and one or two others for
hunting purposes, such as "A bear!" — "But-
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
2(39
?gl-
be-
but
for
falo ! " To these they added a reply, which was al-
ways to signify " I understand." But if the party
called was prevented from obeying, this signal was
to be varied accordingly.
At the same time Reginald did not omit to
learn from the guide a liUmber of Delaware
words and phrases, in order that when he ar-
rived among his new friends he might not be
altogether excluded from communication with
such of them as should not understand Eng-
lish ; in these preparations, and occasional hunts
in company with Baptiste, his time would have
glided on agreeably enough, had he not observed
with anxiety the settled melancholy that was gra-
dually creeping over his sister Lucy ; it was in
vain that he strove to comfort her by reminding
her of the thousand trifling accidents that might
have detaiiied Ethelston in the West Indies, and
have prevented his letters from reaching home.
She smiled upon. him kindly for his well meant
endeavours, and not only abstained from all com-
plain*^ but tried to take her part in conversation;
yet he saw plainly that her cheerfulness was
forced, and that secret sorrow was at her heart.
She employed herself assiduously in tending her
mother, whose health hud ol late become exceed-
ingly precarious, and who was almost always con-
is,.' -
'i^l
■^■sA
270
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
i
fined to het apartments. Lucy worked by her
side, conversed with her, read to her, and did all
in her power to hide from her the grief that pos-
sessed her own bosom. Reginald marked the
struggle, which strengthened, if possible, the love
that he had always felt for his exemplary and
affectionate sister.
One day he was sitting with her in the boudoir,
which commanded, as we have before observed, a
view of the approach to the house, where they saw
a horseman coming at full speed. As he drew
near, he seemed to be a middle-aged man, wearing
a broad-brimmed hat, a coarse over-coat, and loose
trowsers ; his knees were high up on the saddle,
and he rode in so careless and reckless a manner,
that it was marvellous how the uncouth rider
could remain on his horse in a gallop. Reginald
threw open the window ; and as the strange-look-
ing figure caught a sight of him, the steed was
urged yet faster, and the broad-brimmed hat was
waved in token of recognition.
"Now Heaven be praised!**'' exclaimed Regi-
nald aloud; " 'tis Gregson the mate !" He turned
towards his sister: the blood had fled from her
cheeks and lip, her hands were clasped together,
and she whispered in a voice scarcely articulate,
" Heaven be merciful !"
l1
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
271
" Nay, Lucy," said her sanguine brother, " why
this grief ? are you not glad that the Pride is re-
turned?"
" Oh, Reginald ! " said I/ucy, looking on him
reproachfully through the tears which now streamed
from her eyes. "Think you that if he had been
alive and well, he would have allowed another to
come here before him ! Go and speak to the man
— I cannot see him — you will return and tell
me all."
Reginald felt the reproof, and kissing her aflPec-
tionately, hastened from the room.
Who shall attempt to lift the veil from Lucy's
heart during the suspense of the succeeding mi-
nutes ? It is fortunate for human nature, that at
such a moment the mind is too confused to be con-
scious of its own sufferings ; the mingled emotions
of hope and fear, the half-breathed prayer, — the
irresistible desire to learn, contend:ng with the
dread of more assured misery, — all these unite in
producing that agony of suspense which it is im-
possible to describe in words, and of which the
mind of the sufferer can scarcely realize afterwards
a distinct impression.
After a short absence, Reginald returned, and
said to his sister, "Lucy, Ethelston is not here,
but he is alive and safe."
i{^
1 Ifl
272 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
She hid her face in her brother's breast and
found relief in a flood of grateful tears. As soon as
Lucy had recovered her composure, her brother
informed her of Ethelston's captivity, and of the
serious, though not dangerous wounds, that he had
received ; but he mingled with the narration such
warm praises of his friend's heroic defence of the
brig, and so many sanguine assurances of his
speedy release and return, that her fears and her
anxiety were for a time absorbed in the glow of
pride with which she listened to the praises of her
lover"'s conduct, and in the anticipation of soon
having his adventures from his own lips. The
faithful mate received a kind welcome from the
Colonel, and though the latter had sustained a
severe loss in the brig, he viewed it as a misfor-
tune for which no one could be blamed; and di-
rected all his anxiety and his inquiries to the con-
dition of Ethelston, whom he loved as his own son.
"Depend on't, Colonel,"" said Gregson, "he'll
come to no harm where he is, for L'Estrange is
a line old fellow, and Master Ethelston saved his
son's neck from my cutlass. I was cuttin' at him
in downright airnest, for ray dander was up, and
you know. Colonel, a man a'nt particular nice in
a deck scurry like that ! "
" And what made him so anxious to save the
youngster?" inquired the Colonel.
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
273
" Why, I s 'pose he thought the day was our
own, and the lieutenant too smart a lad to be
roughly handled for naught ; but the young mad-
cap put a pistol-ball into his arm by way of
thanks."
"Well, and did Ethelston still protect him?"
" Ay, sir, all the same. I 've served with a
number of captains o' one sort or other, smugglers,
and slave-cruizers, and old Burt, that the Cuba
pirates used to call Gunpowder Jack, but I will
say I never saw a better man than Ethelston step
a deck, whether it 's ' up stick and make sail,' or
a heavy gale on a lee-shore, or a game at long
bowls, or a hammer-away fight at yard-arm to
yard-arm, it's all one to our skipper, he's just as
cool and seems as well pleased, as when it's a free
breeze, a clear sea, and Black Cupid has piped to
dinner."
" He is a gallant young fellow," said the Colonel,
brushing a little moisture from the corner of his
eye ; " and we will immediately take all possible
measures for his liberation, both by applying,
through Congress, for his exchange, and by commu-
nicating with the French agents at New Orleans."
The conversation was protracted for some time,
and after its termination, the mate having satis-
fied himself that the Mooshanne cider had lost
274
THE TRAIRIE-BIRD.
'. fj
III
none of its flavour, and that Monsieur Perrot's
flask contained genuine cognac, returned in high
spirits to Marietta.
The preparations for Reginald's expedition now
went briskly forward, as the business which the
Colonel wished him to transact with the trading
companies on the Mississippi did not admit of
delay. A large canoe was fitted out at Marietta,
capable of containing sixteen or eighteen persons,
and possessing sufficient stowage for the provisions
and goods required ; the charge of it was given to
an experienced Voyageur, who had more than once
accompanied Baptiste in his excursions to the
Upper Mississippi and the Great Lakes ; he was
a steady determined man, on whose fidelity reli-
ance might be placed, and well calculated, from
the firmness of his character, to keep in order the
rough and sturdy fellows who formed his crew.
Born and bred in that wild border region which
now forms the State of Michigan, the woods,
rapids, and lakes had been familiar to him from his
childhood ; unlike most of his tribe, he was singu-
larly grave and taciturn; he always wore a bear-
skhi cap, and whether in his bateau, his canoe, or
his log-hut, his bed was of the same material, so
that he was known only by the name of " Bear-
skin;" his paternal appellation, whatever it might
THE rilAIIlIE-BIRn.
275
have been originally, having become altogether
obsolete and unknown. His crew consisted of
four stout fellows, who, like most of the Indian
borderers, were as skilful in the use of the paddle
on the river as in that of the rifle on the land.
Among them was the gigantic form of Mike Smith,
before mentioned in this narrative ; all these were
engaged by the Colonel, at a liberal salary, for six
months, which was to be proportionately increased
if they were detained in his service for a longer
period. It was also settled that Monsieur Gustave
Perrot should take his passage in the canoe ; and
to his ^are were entrusted the Indian presents,
clothes, and other articles, which were his master's
own property. Reginald had resolved to cross the
Territory on horseback, f;ompanied by Baptisre,
and he therefore meant u carry with him only
such arms, and other articles, as were likely to be
required on the journey.
The orders given to liearskin were, to make
the best of his way to St. Louis, and having
delivered the letters with which he was en-
trusted, there to await Reginald's arrival. The
cargo of the cav consisted chiefly (with the ex-
ception of a fui* t^Ujply of arms and provisions) of
powder, cutlery, . .'oiiies of various colours, paints,
mirrors, and a great variety of beads. Her equip-
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
ment was soon completed, and she left Marietta
amid the cheers of the crowd assembled on the
wooden pier in front of David Muir''s store, the
latter observing to our old friend the mate, who
stood at his elbow, " I 'm thinking, Maister Greg-
son, they chaps will hae eneugh o' the red-skin
deevib, an' fur-huntin' amongst a whcen wild
trappers and daft neer-do-weels ayont the Missis-
sippi ! Weel a weel, ye maun just step ben and
tak' a stoup o"* cognac to the success o* Bearskin
and his crew."
Although there was much in the merchant's
harangue that was like Greek or Hebrew to the
mate, the closing invitation being adapted as well
to his comprehension as to his inclination, he ex-
pressed a brief but cheerful acquiescence, and the
worthy couple entered the house together. As
soon as they were seated in the parlour, Jessie
placed on the table some excellent corn-cakes and
cheese, together with the before-mentioned cog-
nac, and busied herself with even more than her
wonted alacrity, to offer these good things to the
father of the youth towards whom she entertained,
as we have said, a secret but very decided par-
tiality. She carried her hospitality so far as to
bring a bottle of old iracleira from David's fa-
vourite corner in the cellar, which she decanted
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
277
with ^reat dexterity, and placed before the mate.
The jolly t^r complimented the merchant, afier his
own blunt fashion, both on the excellence of his
liquor, and the attractions of his daughter, saying)
in reference to the latter, " I can tell you. Master
Muir, that I hold Jessie to be as handsome and as
handy a lass as any in the territory. If I were
twenty years younger, I should be very apt to clap
on all sail, and try to make a prize of her !"
At this moment his son entered from the store,
under the pretext of speaking to David about the
sale of some goods, but with the object of being
for a few minutes near to Jessie. He had never
spoken to her of love, being afraid that his suit
would certainly be rejected by her parents, who,
from their reputed wealth, would doubtless expect
to marry their daughter to one of the principal
personages in the commonwealth of Marietta. As
he entered, his eyes encountered those of Jessie,
who was still blushing from the effect of the com-
pliment paid to her by his father.
" Harry, my boy," shouted the mate, " you are
just come in time ; I have filled a glass of David's
prime 84, and you must give me a toast ! Now,
my lad, speak up ; heave a-head !"
" Father, I am ashamed of you ! " replied the
youth, colouring. " How can you ask for another
M
IJU'^W"
278
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
toast when Miss Jessie 's standing at your
elbow?"
" The boy 's right," said the sailor, " and he
shall drink it, too; shan't he, David?"
" I'm thinking ye '11 no need to ask him twice.
Jessie, hand the lad a glass I"
At her father's bidding she brought another
glass from the cupboard ; and in giving it to young
Gregson, one or other of them was so awkward,
that instead of it he took her hand in his ; and al-
though he relinquished it immediately, there was
a pressure, unconscious perhaps, but so distinctly
perceptible to Jessie, that she blush 3d still deeper,
and felt almost relieved by hearing her name
called from the store in the loudest key of her
mother's shrill voice, while it was repeated yet
more loudly by the honest mate, who gave the
toast as she left the room, " Here's Jessie Muir, —
a long life and a happy one to her ! "
Henry Gregson drank the madeira, but he
scarcely knew whether it was sweet or sour, for his
blood still danced with the touch of Jessie''s hand ;
and setting down the glass, he returned abruptly
to the stoi'e, whether in the hope of stealing an-
other look at her, or to enjoy his own reflections
on the last few minutes, the reader may determine
for hiAiself.
i«p
m,
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
279
The mate and the merchant continued their
sitting until the bottle of madeira was empty, and
the flask of cognac was considerably diminished ;
and although their conversation was doubtless
highly interesting, and worthy of being listened to
with the greatest attention, yet, as it did not bear
immediately upon the events of our narrative, we
will leave it unrecorded, amongst the many other
valuable treasures of a similar kind, which are suf-
fered day by day to sink into oblivion.
M. Perrot being now fairly under way, and
having taken with him all the articles required by
Reginald for his Indian expedition, our hero re-
solved no longer to delay his own departure, being
about to encounter a very tedious land journey
before he could reach St Louis, and being also
desirous of performing it by easy marches, in order
that Nekimi might arrive at the Osage hunting-
camp fresh, and ready for any of those emer-
gencies in which success might depend upon his
strength and swiftness. Baptiste was now quite
in his element; and an early day being fixed
for their departure, he packed the few clothes and
provisions which they were likely to require on
the journey, in two capacious leather bags, which
were to be slung across the rough hardy nag
which had accompanied him on more than one
3
ii
I I
I <
280
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
distant expedition, and he was soon able to an-
nounce to Reginald that he was ready to start at
an houfs notice.
The parting of our hero from his family was
somewhat trying to his firmness ; for poor Lucy,
whose nerves were much affected by her own sor-
rows, could not control her grief; Aunt Mary
also shed tears, whilst, mingled with her repeated
blessings and excellent counsel, she gave him se-
veral infallible recipes for the cure of cuts, bruises,
and the bite of rattle-snakes. The Colonel
squeezed his hand with concealed emotion, and
bid him remember those whom he left behind, and
not incur any foolish risk in the pursuit of amuse-
ment, or in the excitement of Indian adventure.
But it was in parting with his mother that his ,
feelings underwent the severest trial, for her
health had long been gradually declining ; and al- .
though she evinced the resigned composure which
marked her gentle uncomplaining character, there
was a deep solemnity in her farewell benediction,
arising from a presentiment that they might not
meet again on this side of the grave. It required
all the beauty of the scenery through which he
passed, and all the constitutional buoyancy of his
spirits, to enable Reginald to shake off the sadness
which crept over him, when he caught from a
LK
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
281
rising ground the last glimpse of Mooshanne ; but
the fresh elasticity of youth ere long prevailed,
and he ran his fingers through the glossy mane
that hung over Nekimi's arching crest, antici-
pating with pleasure the wild adventures by flood
and field that they would share together.
Reginald wore the deer-skin hunting-suit that
we have before described; his rifle he had sent
with the tr.noe, the bugle was slung across his
shoulders, a brace of horse-pistols were in the
holsters, and a hunting- knife hanging at his girdle
completed his equipment. The sturdy guide was
more heavily armed; for besides his long rifle,
which he never quitted, a knife hung on one sid5
of his belt, and at the other was slung the huge
axe which had procured him the|name by which
he was known among some of the tribes; but in
spite of these accoutrements, and of the saddle-
bags before-mentioned, his hardy nag paced along
with an enduring vigour that would hardly have
been expected from one of so coarse and un-
promising an exterior; sometimes their* way lay
through the vast prairies which were still found in
the states Indiana and Illinois; at others among
dense woods and rich valleys, through which flowed
the various tributaries that swell Ohio's mighty
stream, the guide losing no opportunity of ex-
Km
282
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
plaining to Reginald as they went, all the signs
and secret indications of Indian or border wood-
craft that occurred. They met with abundance of
deer, and at night they made their fire; and
having finished their venison supper, camped un-
der the shelter of some ancient oak or sycamore.
Thus Reginald's hardy frame became on this pre-
liminary journey more inured to the exposure that
he would have to undergo among the Osages and
Delawares of the Far- west ; they fell in now and
then with straggling bands of hunters and of
friendly Indians, but with no adventures worthy of
record ; and thus, after a steady marih of twenty
days, they reached the banks of the Mississippi,
and crossed in the ferry to St. Louis.
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283
CHAPTER XVI.
THE ESCAPE OF ETHELSTON FROM OUADALOUPE, AND THE CON-
SEQUENCES WHICH ENSUED FROM THAT EXPEDITION.
We left Ethelston on the deck of the little
schooner, which was bearing him rapidly from the
shores of Guadaloupe, under the influence of an
easterly wind, so strong that all his attention
was absorbed in the management of the vessel.
During the night the gale increased, and blew with
unabated violence for forty-eight hours. " The
Sea-gull," for so she was called, scudded lightly
before it; and on the third day Ethelston had
made by his log upwards of five hundred miles of
westerly course.
Having only two hands on board, and the wea-
ther being so uncommonly boisterous, he had been
kept in constant employment, and had only been
able to snatch a few brief intervals for sleep and
refreshment; he found Jacques the coxswain an
active able seaman, but extremely silent and re-
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served, obeying exactly tl lers he received, but
scarcely uttering a word, e o Cupid ; it was he
alone who attended upon t i valid and the nurse
in the after- cabi and vveather having now
moderated, Ethelsi a how the youth had
borne the pitching auu ssing of the vessel dui:ing
the late gale. Jacques replied, that he was not
worse, and seemed not to suffer from the sea.
The Captain was satisfied, and retired to his
cabin ; he had not been there long, before Cupid
entered; and carefully shutting the door behind
him, stood before his master with a peculiar ex-
pression of countenance, which the latter well
knew to intimate some unexpected intelligence.
« Well Cupid, what is it?" Said Ethelston, « is
there a suspicious sail in sight?"
" Very suspicious, Massa Ethelston," replied
the Black, grinning and lowering his voice to
a whisper, <* and suspicious goods aboard the
schooner."
" What mean you, Cupid?"
" There is some trick aboard. I not like that
Jacques that never speak, and I not like that sick
boy and his nurse, that nobody never see."
" But why should you be angry, Cupid, with
the poor boy because he is sick ? I have promised
to deliver him safe to his friends at New Orleans,
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
285
and I hope soon, with this breeze, to perform my
promise."
" Massa Ethelston, I believe it all one damn
trick — I not believe there is one sick boy ; when
Jacques come in and go out of that cabin he
creep, and look, and listen, and watch like the
Colonel's grey cat at the cheese cupboavi' : Cupid
no pretend to much learnin', but he no be made
fool of by damn French nigger, and he no tell
Massa Ethelston a lie." So saying, the African
withdrew as quietly as he had entered.
After musing some time on his follower's com-
munication and suspicions, he resolved to unravel
whatever mystery might be attached to the matter,
by visiting the invalid immediately. On his knock-
ing gently at the door for admission, he was an-
swered from within by the nurse that her patient
was asleep, and ought not now to be disturbed;
but being determined not to allow another day to
pass in uncertainty, he went on deck, and sum-
moning Jacques, told him to go down presently
and inform the nurse that in the evening, as soon
as her patient was awake, he should pay him a
visit. '
Jacques received this mandate with some con-
fusion, and began to stammer something about the
« poor boy not being disturbed."
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
" Harkee, sir," said Ethelston sternly ; " I am
Captain on board this craft, and will be obeyed;
as you go into that cabin three or four times a
day to attend upon the invalid, methinks my pre-
sence cannot be so dangerous. I will take the
risk upon myself: you hear my orders, sir, and
they are not to be trifled with !"
Jacques disappeared, and Ethelston remained
pacing the deck. In about half an hour the latter
came up to him, and said, " The young gentleman
will receive the captain at sundown."
" Very well," replied Ethelston, and continued
to pace the deck, revolving in his mind all the
strange events of the last month, — his illness, the
unfortunate passion of Nina, and her strange be-
haviour when he bid her farewell.
At the appointed time he went down, and
again knocked at the side cabin door for admis-
sion; it was opened by the nurse, apparently a
young woman of colour, who whispered to him in
French, " Go in, sir, and speak gently to him,
for he is very delicate."' So saying she left the
cabin, and closed the door behind her. '^
Ethelston approached the sofa, on which the
grey evening light permitted him to see a slight
figure, covered with a mantle ; and addressing the
«..
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
287
invalid kindly, he said, " I fear, young sir, you
must have sufTered much during the gale."
" No, I thank you," was the reply, but so
faintly uttered as to be scarcely audible.
** Can I do anything to make your stay ou board
more comfortable ? "
" Yes,'* was the whispered answer.
" Then tell me what, or how ; as I have pro-
mised to do all in my power to make the voyage
agreeable to you." ' -
After a pause of a minute, during which the
invalid seemed struggling with repressed emotion,
the mantle was suddenly thrown aside, the recum-
bent figure sprang from the sofa, and Nina stood
before him I "Yes,'' she said; "you have pro-
mised — and my ears drank in the promise — for it,
and for you I have abandoned home, country, kin-
dred, — what do I say, — I have abandoned nothing ;
for you are to me home, kindred, country, every-
thing I Dear, dear Ethelston ! this moment re-
pays me for all I have suffered."' As she spoke
thus, she threw her arms round his neck, and hid
her blushing face upon his breast. ?
Ethelston was so completely taken by surprise,
that for a moment he could not utter a syllable.
Mistaking his silence for a full participation in
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
her own impassioned feelings, and looking up in
his face, her eyes beaming with undisguised affec-
tion, and her dark tresses falling carelessly over
her beautiful neck, she continued, " Oh, speak —
speak one gentle word, — nay, rather break not
this delicious silence, and let me dream here for
ever." . , v
If Ethelston was for a moment stupified, partly
by surprise and partly by the effect of her sur-
passing loveliness, it was but for a moment His
virtue, pride, and honour were aroused, and the
suggestions of passion found no entrance to his
heart. Firmly, but quietly replacing her on the
sofa she had quitted, he said, in a voice more stern
than he had ever before used when addressing her,
" Nina, you have grieved me more than I can
express ; you have persisted in seeking a heart
which I frankly told you was not mine to give ; I
see no longer in you the Nina whom I first knew
in Guadaloupe, gentle, affectionate, and docile —
but a wild, headstrong girl, pursuing a wayward
fancy, regardless of truth, and of that maidenly
reserve, which is woman''s sweetest charm. Not
only have you thus hurt my feelings, but you have
brought a stain upon my honour, — nay, interrupt
me not," he added, seeing that she was about to
speak ; " for I must tell you the truth, and "
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
289
must learn to bear it, even though it may sound
harsh to your ears. I repeat, you have brought a
stain upon my honour, — for what will your re
spected father think of the man whom he received
wounded, suffering, and a prisoner? whom he
cherished with hospitable kindness, and who now
requites all his benefits by stealing from his roof
the daughter of his love, the ornament and bless-
ing of his home ? Nina, I did not think that you
would have brought this disgrace and humiliation
upon my name ! I have now a sacred and a pain-
ful duly before me, and I will see you no more
until I have restored you to the arms of an offended
father. I hope he will forgive you, as I do, for
the wrong that you have done to both of us.
Farewell, Nina." With these words, spoken in
a voice trembling with contending emotions, he
turned and left the cabin.
Reader ! have you ever dwelt in Sicily, or in
any other southern island of volcanic formation;
if so, you may have seen a verdant spot near the
base of the mountain, where the flowers and the
herbage were smiling in the fresh beauty of sum-
mer, where the luxuriant vine mingled her tendrils
with the spreading branches of the elm, where the
air was loaded with fragrance, and the ear was
refreshed by the hum of bees and the murmur of a
VOL. I. o
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290
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
rippling stream, — on a sudden, the slumbering
mountain-furnace is aroused — the sulphurous cra-
ter pours forth its fiery deluge, and in a moment
the spot so lately teeming with life, fertility, and
fragrance, is become the arid, barren abode of deso-
lation. If, reader, you have seen this fearful change
on the face of nature, or if you can place it vividly
before your imagination, then maiy you conceive
the state of Nina's mind, when her long-cherished
love was thus abruptly and finally rejected by the
man for whom she had sacrificed her home, her pa-
rents, and her pride ! It is impossible for language
to portray an agony such as that by which all the
faculties of her soul and body seemed absorbed
and benumbed ; she neither spoke, nor wept, nor
gave any outward sign of sufiering, but with blood-
less and silent lips, sat gazing on vacancy.
Fanchette returned, and looked on her young
mistress with fear and dread. She could neither
elicit a word in reply, nor the slightest indication
of her repeated entreaties- being understood. Nina
suffered her bands to be chafed, her temples to
be bathed, and at length broke i»\to a loud hys-
teric laugh, that rang through the adjoining cabin,
and sent a thrill to the heart of Ethelston. Spring-
ing on deck, he ordered Jacques to go below, and
aid Fanchette in attending on her young lady, and
/ '.
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
y-'
291
then, with folded arms, he leaned over the low bul-
wark, and sat meditating in deep silence on the
events of the day. "'
The moon had risen, and her beams silvered the
waves through which the schooner was cutting her
way ; scarcely a fleeting cloud obscured the bright-
ness of the sky, and all nature seemed hushed in
the calm and peaceful repose of night How dif-
ferent from the fearful storm now raging in the
bosom of the young girl from whom he was divided
only by a few inches of plank ! He shuddered
when that thought arose, but his conscience told
him that he was acting aright, and, indulging in
the reverie that possessed him, he saw a distant
figure in the glimmering moonlight, which as it
drew near, grew more and more distinct, till it
wore the form, the features, and the approving
smile of his Lucy ! Confirmed and strengthened
in his resolutions, he started from his seat, and bid
the astonished Cupid, who was now at the helm,
to prepare to go about, and stand to the eastward ;
Jacques was called from below, the order was re-
peated in a sterner voice, the sails were trimmed,
and in a few minutes the schooner was close hauled
and laying her course, as near as the wind would
permit, for Guadaloupe.
While these events were passing on board the
o2
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
Seagull, Captain I.'Estrange had returned in the
frigate to Point a Pitre. His grief and anger
may be better imagined than described, when
he learnt the flight of his daughter and of his
prisoner, together with the loss of his yacht and
two of his slaves.
Concluding that the fugitives would make for
New Orleans, he dispatched the Hirondelle im-
mediately in pursuit, with orders to discover them
if possible, and to bring them back by stratagem
or force. He also wrote to Colonel Brandon,
painting in the blackest colours the treachery
and ingratitude of Ethelston, and calling upon
him, as a man of honour, to disown and punish
the perpetrator of such an outrage, on the laws of
hospitality.
Meanwhile the latter was straining every nerve
to reach again the island from which he had so
lately escaped. In this object he was hindered,
not only by baifling winds, but by the obstinacy
of Jacques, who, justly fearing the wrath of his
late master, practised every manoeuvre to frustrate
Ethelston's design. But the latter was on his
guard ; and unless he was himself on deck, never
trusted the helm in the coxswain's hands.
He learnt from Fanchette, that Nina was in
a high fever, and quite delirious ; but though he
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f^
293
inquired constantly after her, and ordered every
attention to be paid to her that was within his
power, he adhered firmly to the resolution that
he had formed of never entering her cabin.
After a few days' sailing to the eastward, when
Ethelston calculated that he should not now be
at a great distance from Guadaloupe, he fell in
with a vessel, which proved to be the Hirondelle.
The Seagull was immediately recognised; and
the weather being fair, the lieutenant, and eight
men, came on board. The French oflBcer was
no sooner on the deck, than he ordered his men
to seize and secure Ethelston, and to place the
two blacks in irons.
It was in vain that Ethelston indignantly re-
monstrated against such harsh and undeserved
treatment. The officer would listen to no expla-
nation; and without deigning a reply, ordered
his men to carry their prisoners on board the
Hirondelle.
On reaching Point a Pitre, they were all placed
in separate places of confinement ; and Nina was,
not without much risk and difficulty, conveyed to
her former apartment in her father's house. The
delirium of fever seemed to have permanently
affected the poor girl's brain. She sang wild
snatches of songs, and told those about her that
294
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
her lover was often with her, but that he was
invisible. Sometimes she fancied herself on board
a ship, and asked them which way the wind blew,
and whether they were near the shore. Then she
would ask for a guitar, and tell them that she
was a mermaid, and would sing them songs that
the fishes loved to hear.
The distracted father often sat and listened
to these incoherent ravings, until he left the room
in an agony not to be described ; and when alone,
vented the most fearful imprecations on the sup-
posed treachery and ingratitude of Ethelston.
He could not bring himself to see the latter; for,
said he, '' I must kill him, if I set eyes on his
hateful person:" but he one day wrote the fol-
lowing lines, which he desired to be delivered to
his prisoner: — ....,,..,
" A FATHER, whose indignation is yet greater
than his agony, desires to know what plea you
can urge in extenuation of the odious crimes
laid to your charge : — the deliberate theft of his
slaves and yacht, and the abduction and ruin of
his child, in recompense for misplaced trust, kind-
ness, and hospitality?^
»w
Poor Ethelston, in the gloomy solitude of the
narrow chamber where he was confined, read and
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295
reread the above lines many times before he
would trust himself to reply to them. He felt
for the misery of L'Estrange, and he was too
proud and too generous to exculpate himself by
the narration of Nina's conduct; nay, although
he knew that by desiring L' Estrange to examine
separately Fanchette and Jacques, his own inno-
cence, and the deceit practised upon him, would
be brought to light, he could not bring himself
. to forget that delicacy which Nina had herself
forgotten ; nor add, to clear himself, one mite to
the heavy weight of visitation that had already
fallen upon her. He contented himself with send-
ing the following answer : — ,.
"Sir,
** Your words, though harsh, would be more
than merited by the crimes of which you believe
me guilty. There is a Being above, who reads
the heart, and will judge the conduct of us all.
If I am guilty of the crimes imputed to me, His
vengeance will inflict on me, through the stings
of conscience, punishment more terrible even than
the wrath of a justly-offended father could desire
for the destroyer of his child. If I am not guilty.
He, in His own good time, will make it known,
and will add to your other heavy sorrows, regret
nmia
296
THE PRAIRIE- BIRD.
for having unjustly charged with such base in-
gratitude, Your servant and prisoner,
« E. Ethelston."
On receiving the above letter, which seemed
dictated by a calm consciousness of rectitude,
L'Estrange's belief of his prisoner'*s guilt was for
a moment staggered ; and had he bethought him-
self of cross-examining the other partners in the
escape, he would doubtless have arrived at the
truth ; but his feelings were too violently excited
tc permit the exercise of his reason ; and tearing
the note to pieces, he stamped upon it, exclaiming
in a paroxysm of rage, " Dissembling hypocrite !
does he think to cozen me with words, as he has
poisoned poor Nina's peace?"
Her disorder now assumed a diflFerent character.
The excitement of delirium ceased, and was suc-
ceeded by a feebleness and gradual wasting, which
baffled all the resources of medicine; and such
was the apathy and stupor that clouded her facul-
ties, that even her father could scarcely tell whe-
ther she knew him or not. In this state she
continued for several days; and the physician
at length informed L' Estrange that he must pre-
pare himself for the worst, and that all hope of
recovery was gone.
^^A
" '4\ 4
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
297
Madame L'Estrange had, under the pressure
of anxiety, forgotten her habitual listlessness, and
watched by her daughter's couch with a mother's
unwealled solicitude ; on the night succeeding the
above sad announcement, Nina sunk into a quiet
sleep, which gave some hope to her sanguine
parents, and induced them also to permit them-
selves a few hours' repose.
In the morning she awoke; her eye no longer
dwelt on vacancy; * slight flush was visible on
her transparent cheek, and she called her father,
in a voice feeble indeed, but clear and distinct.
Who shall paint the rapture with which he hailed
the returning dawn of reason and of hope? But
his joy was of brief duration; for Nina, beckoning
him to approach yet nearer, said, " God be
thanked that I may yet beg your blessing and for-
giveness, dearest father ! " then pressing her
wasted hand upon her brow, she continued, after
a short pause, " Yes, I remember it all now — all;
the orange-grove — the flight — the ship — the last
meeting ! Oh ; tell me, where is he ? — where is
Ethelston?"
" He is safe confined," answered L'Estrange,
scarcely repressing his rage ; " he shall not escape
punishment. The villain shall yet know the
weight of an injured father's — " Ere he could con-
5
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'I
ill
$99
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
elude the seil^nce, Nina, by a sudden exertion,
half rose in her bed, and grasping his arm convul-
sively, said, « Father, curse him not — you know
not what you say ; it is on me, on me alone, that
all your anger should fall; listen, and speak not,
for my hours are numbered, and my strength
nearly spent." She then proceeded to tell him, in
a faint but distinct voice, all the particulars al-
ready known to the reader, keeping back nothing
in her own defence, and confessing how Ethelston
had been deceived, and how she had madly per-
sisted in her endeavours to win his love, after he
had explicitly owned to her that his heart and
hand were^ promised to another.
" I solemnly assure you,'" she said in conclu-
sion, " that he never spoke to me of love, that he
warned me as a brother, and reproved me as a
father ; but I would not be counselled. His image
filled my thoughts, my senses, my whole soul — it
fills them yet ; and if you wish your poor Nina to
die in peace, let her see you embrace him as a
friend and son." So saying she sunk exhausted
on her pillow.
L'Estrange could scarcely master the agitation
excited by this narration. After a short pause be
replied, " My poor child ! I fear you dream again.
I v^rote only a few days ago to Ethelston, charging
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
299
him with his villany, and asking wh^ he could say
in his defence ? his reply was nothing but a canting
subterfuge."
" What was it?" inquired Nina faintly.
L'Estrange repeated the words of the note. As
he did so, a sweet smile stole over her counte-
nance; and clasping her hands together, she ex-
claimed, " Like himself— noble, generous Ethel-
ston ! Father, you are blind; he would not ex-
culpate himself, by proclaiming your daughter's
I' shame ! If you doubt me, question Fanchette —
" Jacques — who know it all too well; but you
will not doubt me, dear — dear father ! By that
Being to whose presence I am fast hastening, I
tell you only the truth; by His name I conjure
you to comfort my last moments, by granting my
last request !"
L'Estrange averted his face ; and rising almost
immediately, desired an attendant to summon
Ethelston without delay.
A long pause ensued; Nina's hps moved as if in
silent prayer; and her father, covering his face
with his hands, struggled to control the anguish
by which his firmness was all but overpowered.
At length Ethelston entered the room; he had
been informed that Nina was very ill, but was by
no means aware of the extremity of her danger.
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
Naturally indignant at the treatment he had lately
received, knowing it to be undeserved, and igno-
rant of the purpose for which he '/as now called,
his manner was cold, and aumewnat haughty, as
he inquired the commands which Captain L'Es-
trange might have for his prisoner.
The agonised father sought in vain for utter-
ance; his only reply was to point to the almost
lifeless form of his child.
One glance from the bed to the countenance of
L'Estrange was suiBcient to explain all to Ethel-
ston, who sprang forward, and, wringing the old
captain's hand, faltered in a voice of deep emotion,
" Oh ! forgive me for so speaking, — I knew no-
thing — nothing of this dreadful scene !" then turn-
ing from him, he fixed his eyes upon Nina, while
the convulsive working of his features showed that
his habitual self-command was scarcely equal to
support the present unexpected trial.
The deadly paleness of her brow contrasted
with the disordered tresses of her dark hair, — the
long eyelashes, reposing upon the transparent
cheek, which wore a momentary hectic glow, — the
colourless lip, and the thin wan fingers, crossed
meekly upon her breast, — all gave to her form and
features an air of such unearthly beauty, that
Ethelston almost doubted whether the spirit still
"(TN.,
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
301
lingered in its lovely mansion ; but his doubts were
soon resolved; for having finished the unuttered
but fervent prayer which she had been addressing
to the Throne of Grace, she again unclosed her
eyes ; and when they rested upon his countenance ;
a sweet smile played round her lip, and a warmer
flush came over her cheek. Extending her hand
to him, she said, " Can you forgive me for all the
wrong I have done you?" -
In reply, he pressed her fingers to his lips, for
he could not speak. She continued: *' I know
that I grievously wronged my parents ; but the
wrong which I did to you was yet more cruel.
God be thanked for giving me this brief but pre-
cious hour for atonement. You more than once
called me your sister and your friend ! be a bro-
ther to me now. And you, dearest father, if your
love outweighs my fault, — if you wish your child
to die happy, embrace him for my sake, and repair
the injustice that you have done to his generous
nature ! "
The two men looked at each other; their hearts
were melted, and their cordial embrace brought a
ray of gladness to Nina's eyes. " God be thank-
ed ! " she murmured faintly. " Let my mother now
come, that I may receive her blessing too."
While L'Estrange went to summon his wife to a
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302
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
scene which the weakness of her mind and nerves
rendered her unequal to support, Nina continued :
" Dear, dear Ethelston, let me hear your voice ;
the madness, the passion, the jealousy, that filled
my bosom are all past, but the love is there, im-
perishable ; tell me, my friend, counsellor, brother,
that you are not angry with me for saying so
»>
now.
Again the wasted fingers were pressed to his
burning lip; his tongue could not yet find utter-
ance, but a tear which fell upon them told to the
sufferer that there was no indifference in that
silence. f
Captain L'Estrange now entered, accompanied
by his wife. Although a wea' f^nd foolish woman,
her heart was not dead to those natural affections
of a mother which the present scene might be ex-
pected to call fort. ; she wept long and violently
over her dying child, and perhaps her grief might
be embittered by a whisper of conscience that her
sufferings were more or less attributable to ne-
glected education. Fearing that her mother's ex-
cessive agitation might exhaust Nina's scanty store
of remaining strength, Ethelston suggested to
Captain L'Estrange to withdraw her into the ad-
joining apartment; and appioaching the sufferer
he whispered a few words in her ear. A sweet
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
303
'lifl
smile played upon her countenance as she an-
swered, " Yes, and without delay."
Following her retiring parents from the room,
he motioned to the priest, who was waiting at the
door, to enter ; and the sad party remained toge -
ther while the confessor performed the rites of
his sacred oflSce. Madame L'Estrarge was so
overpowered by her grief, that she was removed,
almost insensible, to her • own apartment, while,
upon a signal from the holy man, Ethels ton and
the father re-entered that of Nina.
Addressing the latter, she said in a faint voice,
*' Dearest father, I have made my peace with
Heaven ; let me add one more prayer to you for
peace and forgiveness on earth?""
" Speak it, my child; it is already granted,"
said the softened veteran. , .
**■ Pardon, for my sake, Fanchette and Jacques :
they have committed a great offence ; but it was
I who urged them to it."
" It is forgiven ; and they shall not be pun-
ished," replied L'Estrange : while Ethelston, deep-
ly touched by this amiable remembrance of the
offending slaves at such a moment, whispered to
her in a low voice,
" Blessed are the peace-makers ; for they shall
be called the children of God !"
11
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
A grateful pressure of the hand which he had
placed in hers, was the only reply, as she con-
tinued, addressing L'Estrange, " And let them
marry, father, I know they love each other ; and
those who love should marry." Here her voice
became feebler and feebler, as, once more opening
her dark eyes, which shone with preternatural
lustre upon Ethelston, she added, *' You, too,
will marry; but none will ever love you like
your . . . sister ! — closer — closer yet ! let me feel
your breath. Father, join your hand to his — so !
This death is - - Par "
The closing word died upon her lips ; but the
angelic smile that lingered there seemed to ema-
nate from that Paradise which their last moments
strove in vain to i*ame. Her earthly sorrows were
at rest, and the bereaved father feU exhausted into
Ethelston's arms.
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
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\ m
CHAPTER XVII.
EXCURSION ON THE PRAIRIE. — THE PARTY FALL IN WITH A
VETERAN HUNTER.
-I
We must now return to Reginald and his trusty
follower, , Baptiste, whom we left at St. Louis,
where they were busily employed in disposing of
Colonel Brandon's share of the peltries brought
in by the trapping party, which he had partly
furnished the preceding year. They did not find
much difficulty in efifecting an advantageous sale
to two of the other partners in the expedition, —
active, enterprising men, who, from their connec-
tion with the Mackinaw Fur Company, were sure
of reselling at considerable profit.
As soon as these afiairs were settled, Reginald,
who had been joined by Perrot, Bearskin, and the
remaining crew of the canoe, resolved to defer
no longer his proposed journey into the Osage
country. He left all the arrangements to Bap-
tiste and Bearskin, under whose superintendence
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
the preparations advanced so rapidly, that at the
end of a week they were satisfactorily com-
pleted.
It had been determined to leave the canoe
at St. Louis, and to perform the journey by land ;
for this purpose a strong saddle-horse was pur-
chased for each of the party, together with six
pack-horses, and as many mules, for the transfer
of the ammunition, baggage, and presents for their
Indian allies. Four additional Canadian *' cou-
reurs des Bois " were engaged to take charge of
the packs ; so that when they started for the
Western Prairies, the party mustered twelve in
number, whose rank and designation were as
follows: — . ' . iV :
Reginald Brandon; Baptiste, his lieutenant;
Bearskin, who, in the absence of the two former,
was to take the command; M. Perrot, Mike
Smith, with three other border hunters, and the
four Canadians, completed the party. .. ^ . .
Baptiste had taken care to place among the
packages an abundance of mirrors, cutlery, and
other articles most highly prized by the savages.
He had also selected the horses with the greatest
care, and two spare ones were taken, in case of
accidents by the way. When all was ready, even
the taciturn Bearskin admitted that he had never
MU
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
307
seen a party so well fitted out, in every respect,
for an Indian expedition.
It was a lovely morning when they left St.
Louis, and entered upon the broad track which
led through the deep Missourian forest, with
occasional openings of prairie towards a trading
post lately opened on the Osage, a river which
runs from S. W. to N. E. and falls into the Mis-
souri. Of all the party, none were in such exu-
berant spirits as Perrot, who, mounted on an
active, spirited little Mestang horse,* capering
beside the bulky figure of Mike Smith, addressed
to him various pleasantries in broken English,
which the other, if he understood them, did not
deign to notice.
It was now near the close of May, and both
the prairie and the woodland scenery were clad
in the beautiful and varied colours of early sum-
mer; the grassy road along which they wound
their easy way was soft and elastic to the horses'
hoofs; and as they travelled farther from the
settlements scattered near St. Louis, the frequent
tracks of deer which they observed, tempted
Reginald to halt his party, and encamp for the
* Mestang, a horse bred between the wild and the tame
breeds ; they are sometimes to be met with among tiie traders
to Santa Fe.
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308
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
night, while he and Baptiste sallied forth to
provide for them a venison supper.
After a short hunting ramble they returned,
bearing with them the saddle of a fine buck. A
huge fire was lighted ; the camp-kettles, and other
cooking-utensils were in immediate request, and
the travellers sat down to enjoy their first supper
in the Missourian wilderness.
Monsieur Perrot was now quite in his element,
and became at once an universal favourite, for
never had any of the party tasted cofiee or flour-
cakes so good, or venison steaks of so delicate
a flavour. His good-humour was as inexhaustible
as his inventive culinary talent ; and they were
almost disposed to believe in his boasting assu-
rance, that so long as there was a buffalo-hide,
or an old mocassin left among them, they should
never want a good meal.
Having supped and smoked a comfortable pipe,
they proceeded to bivouac for the night. By the
advice 'of Baptiste, Reginald had determined to
accustom his party, from the first, to those precau-
tionary habits which might soon become so essen-
tial to their safety; a regular rotation of sentry
duty was established, the horses were carefully
secured, and every man lay down with his knife in
his belt, and his loaded rifle at his side ; the packs
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
309
were all carefully piled, so as to form a low breast-
work from behind which they might fire in case
of sudden attack; and when these dispositions were
completed, those who were not on the watch,
wrapped themselves in their blankets or buffalo-
skins, and with their feet towards the fire, slept
as comfortably as on a bed of down.
For two days they continued their march in a
north-west direction, meeting with no incident
worthy of record; the hunters found abundance
of game of every description, and Monsieur Per-
rot's skill was daily exercised upon prairie-hens,
turkeys, and deer. On the third day, as they
were winding their way leisurely down a wooded
valley, the sharp crack of a rifle was heard at no
great distance. Reginald, desiring to ascertain
whether Indians or White-men were hunting in
the neighbourhood, halted his party, and went
forward, accompanied by Baptiste, to endeavour,
unperceived, to approach the person whose shot
they had heard. A smooth grassy glade facilitated
their project, and a slight column of smoke curl-
ing up from an adjoining thicket' served to guide
them towards the spot. Ere they had advanced
far, the parting^of the brushwood showed them
that the object of their search was approaching
the place where they stood, and they had barely
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
time to conceal themselves in a bush of sumach,
when the unknown hunter emerged from the
thicket, dragging after him a fine deer. He was
a powerful man of middling height, not very unlike
Baptiste in dress and appearance, but even more
embrowned and weather-beaten than the trusty
Guide ; he seemed to be about fifty years of age,
and the hair on his temples was scant and grey ;
his countenance was strikingly expressive of bold-
ness and resolution, and his eye seemed as clear
and bright as that of a man in the early prime of
life. Leaning his rifle against an adjoining tree,
he proceeded to handle and feel his quarry to
ascertain the proportions of fat and meat;, the
examination seemed not unsatisfactory, for when
it was concluded he wiped the perspiration from
his brow, and with a complacent smile muttered
half aloud, " Ah, 't aint every day as a man can
find a saddle like that in old Kentuck now, — what
with their dogs, and girdlins, and clearins, and
hog-feedings, and the other devilments of the
settlements, the deer's all driven out of the coun-
try, or if it aint driven out, they run all the fat
ofi', so that it's only fit to feed one of your tradin'
townbred fellows, who wouldn't know a prime
buck from a Lancaster sheep !"
After this brief soliloquy, the veteran sportsman
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
311
tucked up the sleeve of his hunting-shirt, and pro-
ceeded to skin and cut up his quarry, with a skill
and despatch that showed him to be a perfect master
of his craft. Reginald and Baptiste had remained
silent observers of his proceedings, but the former
inferred from the pleased twinkle of the Guide's
grey eyes, and the comic working o the muscles
of his mouth, that the solitary hunter was no
stranger to him : touching Baptiste lightly, he
whispered, " I see that we have come across an
acquaintance of yours in this remote place."
" That v/e have. Master Reginald," said the
Guide ; " and you'd have known him too, if you'd
spent some of the years in ICentuck, as you passed
at those colleges in the old country; but we'll
just step out and hail him, for though he aint
particular fond of company, he's not the man to
turn his back on a friend to whom he has once
given his hand."
So saying, he rose from his hiding place, and
coming out on the open glade, before Reginald
could inquire the stranger's name, the Guide said
aloud, " A prime buck, Colonel, I see your hand's
as steady as ever !"
At the first sound of a voice addressing him in
his own language, a shade of displeasure came
across the hunter's countenance, but as he recog-
\\
312
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
nised the speaker, it disappeared instantly, and he
replied, " Ha ! Baptiste, my old friend, is that
you ? What chase are you on here?" -
So saying, he grasped the horny hand of the
Guide, with a heartiness which proved that the
latter was really welcome.
"Why, Colonel, I'm out on a kind o' mixed
hunt this turn, with this young gentleman, whose
father, Colonel Brandon, you've known many a
day. — Master Reginald, I'm sure you'll be glad
to be acquainted with Colonel Boone, howbeit
you little expected to find him in this part of the
airth."
At the mention of the stranger's name, Regi-
nald's hand was raised unconsciously to his cap,
which he doffed respectfully as he said, " I am
indeed glad to meet the celebrated Daniel Boone,
whose name is as familiar to every western hunter
as that of Washington or Franklin in our cities."
" My young friend," said the Colonel, laughing
good-humouredly, " I am heartily glad to see your
father's son, but you must not bring the ways of
the city into the woods, by flattering a rough old
bear-hunter with fine words."
" Nay,"" said Reginald, " there is no flattery, for
Baptiste here has spoken of you to me an hundred
times, and has told me, as often, that a better
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
313
hunter, or a better man does not breathe. You
seem to have known him some time, and must,
therefore, be able to judge whether he is of a
flattering sort or not." ,
" Why, it wasn't much his trade, I allow," re-
plied the Colonel, "in old times when he and I
hunted bear for three weeks together in the big
laurel thicket at Kentucky Forks. I believe, Bap-
tiste, that axe at your belt is the very one with
which you killed the old she, who wasn't pleased
because we shot down two of her cubs ; she hadn't
manners enough to give us time to load again,
and when you split her skull handsomely, she was
playing a mighty unpleasant game with the stock
of my rifle. Ah, that was a reasonable quiet
country in those days," continued the Colonel;
" we had no trouble, but a lively bit of a skrim-
mage, now and then, with the Indians, until the
Browns, and Frasers, and Micklehams, and heaven
knows how many more came to settle in it, and what
with their infernal ploughs and fences, and mills,
the huntin' was clean spoilt — I stayed as long as I
could, for I'd a kind o' likin' to it, but at last I
couldn't go ten mile any way without comin' to
some clearin' or log-hut, so says I to myself,
* Colonel, the sooner you clear out o' this, the
better you'll be pleased.'"
VOL. I. p
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THE PRAIRIE-niRD.
« Well, Colonel," said the Guide, « I heard
you had moved away from the Forks, and had
gone further down west, but they never told me
you had crossed the big river."
" I only came here last fall," replied the Colo-
nel; "for I found in Kentucky that as fast as
I moved, the settlers and squatters followed; so
I thought I 'd dodge 'em once for all, and make
for a country where the deer and I could live
comfortably together." V
" As we have thus accidentally fallen in with
you," said Reginald, " I hope you will take a hun-
ter's meal with us before we part ; our men and
baggage are not a mile from this spot, and Colonel
Boone's company will be a pleasure to us all."
The invitation was accepted as frankly as it
was given.
Baptiste shouldered the Colonel's venison, and
in a short time the three rejoined Reginald's party.
Daniel Boone's name alone was sufficient in the
West to ensure him a hearty welcome. Perrot's
talents were put into immediate requisition, and
ere long the game and poultry of the prairie were
roasting before a capital fire, while the indefa-
tigable Frenchman prepared the additional and
unusual luxuries of hot maize cakes and coffee.
During the repast, Reginald learnt from Co-
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THE PRAIRIE RIRD.
Sir,
lonel Boone that various parties of Indians had
been lately hunting in the neiglibourhood. lie
described most of them as friendly, and willing to
trade in meat or skins for powder and lead; he
believed them to belong to the Konsas, — a tribe
once powerful, and resident on the river called
by that name falling into the Missouri, about an
hundred miles to the N.W. of the place where
our party were now seated ; but the tribe had
been of late reduced by the ravages of the small-
pox, and by the incursions of the Pawnees, — a
nation more numerous and warlike, whose villages
were situated an hundred miles higher up the
same river.*
The Colonel described the neighbourhood as
abounding in elk, deer, l.ear, and turkeys; but
he said that the beaver and the buffalo were al-
ready scarce, the great demand for their skins
having caused them to be hunted quite out of
the region bordering on the settlements. After
spending a couple of hours agreeably with our
party, the veteran sportsman shouldered his trusty
* The Pawnee nations have of late years fixed tlicir winter
villages on the banks of the Nebraska, or Platte River, many
hundred miles to the N.W. of the spot named in the text :
but at the date of our narrative they dwelt on the banks of the
Konsas, where the ruins of their principal village arc still
faintly to be discerned.
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THE TRAIRIE-BIRD.
rifle, and wishing our hero a successful hunt, and
shaking his old comrade Baptiste cordially by the
hand, valked off leisurely in a northerly direction,
towards his present abode ; which was not, he
said, so far distant but that he should easily reach
it before sundov n. '
As the last glimpse of his retiring figure was
lost in the shades of the forest, the Guide uttered
one of those grunts, which he sometimes uncon-
sciously indulged. Reginald knew that on these
occasions there was something on his mind, and
guessing that it referred to their departed guest,
he said,
" Well, Baptiste, I am really glad to have seen
Daniel Boone ; and I can truly say, I am not dis-
appointed ; he seems to be just the sort of man
that I expected to see."
" He is a sort," said the Guide, " that we don't
see every day, Master Reginald. Perhaps he'
ain't much of a talker ; an' he don't use to quarrel
unless there 's a reason for 't ; but if he 's once
aggravated, or if his friend 's in a scrape, he 's
rather apt to be dargerous."
" I doubt it not," said Reginald ; " there is a
quiet look of resolution about him; and, in a
diCicultv, I would rather have one such man with
me than two or three of your violent, noisy
brawlers."
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
317
As he said this his eye inadvertently rested
upon the huge fgure of Mike Smith, who was
seated at a little distance lazily smoking his pipe,
and leaning against a log of fallen timber. The
Guide observed the direction of Reginald's eye,
and guessed what was passing in his mind. A
grave smile stole for a moment over his features ;
but he made no reply, and in a few minutes, the
inarching orders being issued, the party resumed
their journey.
On vhe following day they reached a point
where the track branched off in two directions ;
the broader, and more beaten, to the N.W. ; the
other towards the S.W. The Guide informed
them that the former led along by the few scat-
tered settlements, that were already made on the
southern side of the Missouri, towards the ferry
and trading-post near the mouth of the Konsas
river; while the smaller, and less beaion track,
led towards the branch of Osage river, on which
the united party of Delawares and Osages, whom
they sought, were encamped.
Having followed this track for fifty milys, th^y
came to a spot, then known among hunters by
the name of the Elk Flats, where the branch
of the Osage, called Grand River, is fordable.
Here they crossed without accident or diflSculty,
except that M. Perrot's horse missed his footing,
r
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318
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
-9
and slipped into a deeper part of the stream.
The horse swam lustily, and soon reached the
opposite bank ; but the Frenchman had cast him-
self oiF, and now grasped with both hands an old
limb of a tree that was imbedded near the middle
of the river ; he oould just touch the ground with
his feet, but, being a bad swimmer, he was afraid
to let go his hold, for fear of being again sweT)t
away by the current, while his rueful counter ;.'.ix,
and his cries for assistance, provoked the mirth
of all the party.
After enjoying his valefs alarm for a few minutes,
Beginald, who had already crossed, entered the
river again with Nekimi, and approaching Perrot,
desired him to grasp the mane firmly i*^ his hand,
and leave the rest to the animal's sagacity, which
instruction being obeyed, he was safely brought
ashore, and in a short time was laughing louder
than the rest at his own fright, and at the ludi-
crous predicament from which he had been ex-
tricated.
The packages were all conveyed across without
accident, and the party found themselves encamp-
ed in what was then considered a pavt of the
Osage country. Here they were obliged to use
greater vigilance in the protection of their camp
and of their horses, during the night, as they had
smoked the pipe with the chiefs, and were
yet
mm
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
319
liable to an attack from a party of warriors or
horsestealers.
The night passed, however, without any dis-
turbance ; and on the following day at noon, they
reached a spot which Baptiste recognized as a
former camping-place of the Osages, and which
he knew to be not distant from their present
village. Here his attention was suddenly drawn
to an adjoining maple, on the bark of which sun-
dry marks were rudely cut, and in a fork of
the tree were three arrows, and as many separate
bunches of horsehair. He examined all these
carefully, and replaced them exactly as he found
them; after which he informed Reginald that
three braves of the Osages had gone forward
during the past night on a war-excursion towards
the Konsas, and all these marks were left to in-
form their followers of their purpose, and the
exact path which they intended to pursue. He
also advised Reginald to halt his party here,
while he went on himself with one of the men
to the village, it being contrary to the customs
of Indiai etiquette for a great man to come among
them unannounced.
Reginald adopted his counsel, and the sturdy
Guide, apcompanied by one of the coureurs des
Bois, set out upou his mission, the result of which
will appear in the following chapter.
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
CHAPTER XVIII.
tjJiniNAIiD AND HIS PARTY REACH THE INDIAN ENCAMPMENT,
The Guide and his companion pursued their
way leisurely along a beaten track, which led
them through a well timbered valley, watered by
one of the branches of Grand River, until it
emerged upon a rising slope of open prairie.
Having gained its summit, they saw at a little
distance the Indian encampment stretched along
the banks of a rivulet, which, after curving round
the base of the hill on which they now stood,
found its way to the line of heavy timber that
marked the course of the main river. They were
soon hailed by a mounted Delaware scout, to
whom Baptiste explained the peaceful nature of
his mission, and desired to be shown into the pre-
sence of the principal chiefs.
As the Guide walked through the scattered
lodges of the Delawares, his eye rested on more
than one Indian to whom he was well known;
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
321
but as he was now acting in the capacity of am-
bassador, it was not. consistent with Indian usage
that he should speak or be spoken to by others on
the way. So well did he know the habits of the
people among whom he now found himself, that
when he arrived before the lodge of the Great
Chief, he passed by War-Eagle and Winge-
nund, who had come to its entrance on the ap-
proach of a stranger, and giving them merely a
silent sign of recognition, took the place pointed
out to him in the centre of the lodge, by the side
of the venerable man who was the head of this
emigrant band of the Lenape; to whom, as the
highest proof of thrir respect and veneration, they
had given the name of Taraenund,* by which
alone he was now known throughout the nation.
The pipe of welcome having been presented,
and been smoked for a few minutes with becoming
gravity, Baptiste opened to Tamenund the object
* The name of Tamenund is doubtless familiar to all Ame-
ricans who have taken the slightest interest in the history of
the Indian tribes, as well as to that more numerous class who
have read the graphic and picturesque descriptions penned by
the great American novelist ; nevertheless, it may be necessary,
for the information of some European readers, to state, that
Tamenund was an ancient Lenape chief, whose traditionary
fame is so great in the tribe, that they have from time to time
given his name to chiefs, and even to white men, whom they
p6
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THE PKAIRIE-BIRD.
of his visit, and informed him that a white warrior
and chief, already known to some of the Dela-
wares present, desired to eat, to smoke, and to
hunt with them for a season as a brother. To
this Tamenund, who had already been informed
by War-Eagle of the character and conduct of
Reginald, as well as of his promised visit, replied
with becoming dignity and hospitality, that the
young white chief should be welcome; that his
heart was known to be great among the Dela-
wares, and that both he and his people should be
held as brothers; at the same time he informed
the Guide, that as they were about to move their
encampment immediately to a more favourable
spot, it might be better for the White Chief to join
them on the following morning, when all should be
prepared for his reception.
The Guide having acceded to this suggestion,
rose to take his leave, and retired with his com-
panion from the village. Before they had gone a
desired especially to honour. At the time of the revolutionary
war, so numerous were the traditions and legends respecting
this hero, that he was in some quarters established as the
patron saint of America, under the name of St. Tammany ;
and hence arose the Tammany societies and Tammany build-
ings in various parts of the Union. See Heckewalder's Histo-
rical Account of the Indian Nations, chap, xl., and The Last
of the Mohicans, vol. iii. p. 152., &c.
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
323
mile on their return, they heard behind them the
trampling of horses, and Baptiste recognised War-
Eagle and Wingenund approaching at full speedj
who greeted him cordially, and made many in-
quiries about Netis and the Lily of Mooshanne.
Having acquired the desired information, it was
agreed, that before noon en the following day Re-
ginald should come to the spot where they were
now conversing, and that War-Eagle should be
there to escort and accompany him to his first
meeting with the Delaware and Osage chiefs.
These preliminaries being arranged, the Indians
galloped back to the village, and Baptiste returned
without accident or interruption to Reginald's
camp, where he gave an account of his mission
and of the arrangements for the morrow's confer-
ence.
Early on the following morning they set forth
towards the Indian village. By Baptiste's advice,
Reginald attired himself more gaily than usual ; his
hunting-shirt and leggins of elkskin were orna-
mented with fringes ; the bugle slung across his
shoulders was suspended by a green cord adorned
with tassels; on his head he wore a forage-cap
encircled by a gold band ; a brace of silver-mounted
pistols were stuck in his belt, and a German boar-
knife hung at his side ; he had allowed Baptiste to
if
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
ornament Nekimi's bridle with beads, after the
Indian fashion, and the noble animal pranced
under his gallant rider as if conscious that he
was expected to show his beauty and his mettle.
The dress and appearance of Reginald, though
fanciful and strange, was rendered striking by the
grace and muscular vigour of his frame, as well
as by the open, fearless character of his coun-
tenance; and the party of Whitemen went gaily
forward, confident in the favourable impression
which their young leader would make on their
Indian allies.
When they reached the spot where Baptiste had,
on the preceding day, parted from War-Eagle,
they descried two Indians sitting at the root of an
old maple-tree, as if awaiting their arrival; a
single glance enabled Reginald to recognise them,
and springing from his horse, he greeted War-
Eagle and Wingenund with affectionate cordiality,
and read in the looks of both, though they spoke
little, that he was heartily welcome. When they
had saluted Baptiste, Reginald introduced them
in form to the other members of his party, and
among the rest, to Monsieur Perrot, who having
as yet seen few Indians, and those of the meanest
class, was surprised at the noble and dignified
appearance of War-Eagle, to whom he dofled his
f s
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
325
cap with as much respect as if he had been a
field-marshal of France.
Having made a short halt, during which the
pipe was passed round, and some cakes of Indian
corn and honey set before their guests, the party
again moved forward, under the guidance of War-
Eagle. Leaving the heavy timber in the valley,
they ascended the opposite hill, where a magni-
ficent prospect opened upon their view ; below
them was an undulating prairie of boundless ex-
tent, through the middle of which ran a tributary
branch of Grand River; behind them lay the
verdant mass of forest from which they had lately
emerged; the plain in front was dotted with the
lodges of the Delawares and the Osages, while
scattered groups of Indians, and grazing horses,
gave life, animation, and endless variety to the
scene.
Halting for a moment on the brow of the hill,
War-Eagle pointed out to Reginald the lodge of
his father Tamenund, distinguished above the rest
by its superior size and elevation, and at the same
time showed him at the other ^ extremity of the
encampment, a lodge of similar dimensions, which
he described as being that of the Osage chief.
" How is he called?" inquired Reginald.
« Mahega," replied the War-Eagle. *
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THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
At the mention of this name the Guide uttered
one of those peculiar sounds, something between
a whistle and a grunt, by which Reginald knew
that something was passing in his mind, but on
this occasion, without apparently noticing the in-
terruption, he continue^!, addressing War-Eagle,
" Will Mahega receive me too as a brother — is the
Osage chief a friend to the Whitemen ?"
" Mahega is a warrior," replied the Indian ; " he
hunts with the Lenape, and he must be a friend
of their brother." » '
Not only did this answer appear evasive, but
there was also something more than usually con-
strained in the tone and manner of War-Eagle,
which did not escape the observation of Reginald,
and with the straightforward openness of his cha-
racter, he said, " War- Eagle, my heart is open to
you, and my tongue can be silent if required —
speak to me freely, and tell me if Mahega is a
friend or not; is he a brave or a snake ?"
War-Eagle, fixing his searching eye upon Regi-
nald's countenance, replied, " Mahega is a warrior
— the scalps in his lodge are many — his name is
not a lie, but his heart is not that of a Lenape —
War- Eagle will not speak of him : — Grande Hache
knows him, and my brother's eyes will be open."
Having thus spoke*!.', the young chief added a
1^
THE TRAIRIE-DIRD.
327
few words in his own tongue to Baptiste, and
making a sign for Wingenund to follow, he gal-
loped off at speed towards the encampment.
Reginald, surprised, and somewhat inclined to
be displeased by their abrupt departure, turned to
the Guide, and inquired the cause of it, and also
the meaning of War- Eagle's last words.
Baptiste, shaking his head significantly, replied
in a low voice, " 1 know Mahega well — at least
I have heard much of him ; his name signifies
* Red-hand,* and, as the young chief says, it tells
no lie, for he has killed many; last year he at-
tacked a war-party of the Outagamis* near the
Great River, and cut them off to a man, he him-
self killed their chief and several of their war-
riors — they say he is the strongest and the bravest
man in the nation."
" It seems to me," said Reginald, " that War-
Eagle and he are not very good friends."'
" They are not," replied Baptiste ; " the young
Delaware has evidently some quarrel with him,
and therefore would not speak of him — we shall
learn what it is before many days are over; mean-
while, Master Reginald, say nothing to any others
i
'a
i
* Tlie tribe called by wliite men " the Foxes," who inha-
bit chiefly the region between the Upper Mississippi and Lake
Michigan. , ..
■
328
THE PRAIRIE-DIRP.
I I
of the party on this subject, for they may take
alarm, or show suspicion, and if they do, your
summer hunt may chance to end in rougher play
than we expect. I will keep my eye on ' Red-
hand,' and will soon tell you what tree he's making
for."
" Why did they gallop oflF so abruptly?" in-
quired Reginald.
" They are gone to rejoin the bands which are
coming out to receive us on our entrance," replied
the Guide. " We must put our party in their best
array, and get the presents ready, for we have not
many minutes to spare.""
The event proved the correctness of his calc
tion ; for they had scarcely time to select from c».o
packs those articles destined to be presented to
the chiefs at this interview, before they saw two
large bands of mounted Indians gallop towards
them from the opposite extremities of the encamp-
ment. As they drew near that which came from
the Delaware quarter, and was headed by War-
Eagle in person, they checked their speed, and
approached slowly, while their leader, advancing
in front of the band, saluted Reginald and his
party with dignified courtesy. Meanwhile the
body of Osag^s continued their career with head-
THE PRAIRIE-niRD.
329
long speed, shouting, yelling, and going through
all the exciting manceuvres of a mock fight, after
their wild fashion. Their dress was more scanty
and less ornamented than that of the Delawares ;
but being tricked out with painted horsehair, porcu-
pine quills, and feathers, it bore altogether a more
gay and picturesque appearance; neither can it
be denied that they were, in general, better horse>
men than their allies ; and they seemed to delight
in showing off their equestrian skill, especially in
galloping up to Reginald's party at the very top of
their speed, and then either haHing so suddenly
as to throw their horses quite back upon their
haunches, or dividing off to the right and to the
left, and renewing their manoeuvres in another
quarter with increased extravagance of noise and
gesture.
Reginald having learned from Baptiste that this
was their mode of showing honour to guests on
their arrival, awaited patiently the termination of
their manoeuvres ; and when at length they ceased,
and the Osage party reined their horses up by the
side of the Delawares, he went forward and shook
hands with their leader, a warrior somewhat older
than War-Eagle, and of a fine martial appearance.
As soon as he found an opportunity, Reginald,
/l
\ 1
330
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
turning to Wingenund, who was close behind him,
inquired, in English, if that Osage chief was
«Mahega?"
" I\fo," replied tho youth, " that is a brave,*
called in their tongue ti;s Black- Wolf. Mahega,"
he added with a peculi ir smile, " is very different"
" How mean you, Wingenund ?"
" Elack-Wolf," replied the youth, " is a warrior,
and has no fear, but he is not like Mahega ; — an
antelope is not an elk ! "
While this conversation was going on, the party
entered the encampment, and wound their way
amongst its scattered lodges, towards that of
Tamenund, where, as the War-Eagle informed
Reginald, a feast was prepared for his reception.
* In describing the manners and distinctions of rank among
the Indians of the Missouri plains, it is necessary to adopt
the terms in common use among the guides and traders, how-
ever vague and unsatisfactory those terms may be. In these
tribes the chieftainship is partly hereditary and partly elec-
tive ; there is usually one Great Chief, and there are also
chiefs of a second degree, who are chiefs of diiferent bands
in the tribe ; next to these in rank are the " Braves," the
leading warriors of the nation ; and in order to be qualified for
admission into this rank, an Indian must have killed an
enemy or given other sufficient evidence of courage and ca-
pacity. When a war-council is held, the opinion of the
principal Brave is fiequently preferred before that of the
chief.
-'wmfmmwm
"■" ■ ■JJXT.." '
■ MSJj^ ''
I
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
331
to which Mahega and the other Osage leaders
were invited. ,
On arriving before the Great Lodge, Reginald
and his companions dismounted, and giving their
horses to the youths in attendance, shook hands
in succession with the principal chiefs and bu vcs
of the two nations. Reginald was much struck by
the benevolent and dignified countenance of the
Delaware chief; but in spite of himself, and of a
preconceived dislike which he was inclined to en-
tertain towards Mahega, or Red-hand, his eye
rested on that haughty chieftain with mingled
surprise and admiration. He was nearly a head
taller than those by whom he was surrounded; and
his limbs, though cast in an Herculean mould,
showed the symmetrical proportions which are so
distinctive of the North American Indians ; his
forehead was bold and high, his nose aquiline, and
his mouth broad, firm, and expressive of most
determined character; his eye was rather small,
but bright and piercing as a ha,wk's ; his hair had
been all shaven from his head, with the exception
of the scalp-lock on the crown, which was painted
scarlet, and interwoven with a tuft of horsehair
dyed of the same colour. Around his muscular
throat was suspended a collar formed from the
claws of the grisly bear, ornamented with parti-
\>
332
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
coloured beads, entwined with the delicate fur of
the white ermine; his hunting-shirt and leggins
were of the finest antelope skin, and his mocassins
were adorned with beads and the stained quills of
the porcupine. He leant carelessly on a bow, which
few men in the tribe could bend. At his back were
slung his arrows in a quiver made of wolf-skin, so
disposed that the grinning visage of the animal
was seen above his shoulder, while a war-club and
scalping-knife, fastened to his belt, completed the
formidable Mahega'^s equipment.
As he glanced his eye over the party of white
men, there was an expression of scornful pride
on his countenance, which the quick temper of
their youthful leader was ill-disposed to brook,
had not the prudent counsels of the Guide pre-
pared him for the exercise of self-command. Ne-
vertheless, as he turned from the Osage chief to
the bulky proportions of his gigantic follower,
Mike Smith, he felt that it was like comparing
a lion with an ox; and that in the event of a
quarrel between them, the rifle alone could render
its issue doubtful. v '•
The feast of welcome was now prepared in the
lodge of Tamenund, which was composed of bison
skins stretched upon poles, arranged in the form
of a horse-shoe, and covering an extent of ground
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
333
apparently not less than twenty yards in length.
RegiLald observed also several smaller lodges
immediately adjoining that of the chief, on one
side, and on the other a circular tent of wax-clotl.,
or painted canvass, evidently procured from white
men, as it was of excellent texture, and its door,
or aperture, protected by double folds of the same
material.
Whilst he was still looking at this comparatively
civilized dwelling, with some curiosity to know
by whom it might be tenanted, the folds of the
opening were pushed aside, and an elderly man
appeared, who, after contemplating for a moment
the newly-arrived group, came forward to offer
them a friendly salutation. He was apparently
between fifty and sixty ; out his years were not
easily guessed, for his snow-wtiite hai^ might seem
to have numbered seventy winters; vhile from
the uprightness of his carriage, and the elasticity
of his step, he seemed scarcely past the vigour of
middle life. In figure he was tall and slight ; his
countenance, though tanned by long exposure to
the sun, was strikingly attractive, and his milf^
blue eye beamed with an expression of benevo-
lence not to be mistaken. His dress was a black
frock of serge, fastened at the waist by a girdle
of the same colour, from which was suspended
334
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
V,
a small bag, wherein he carried the few simples,
and instruments requisite for his daily offices of
charity and kindness. Dark grey trousers of the
coarsest texture, and mocassins of bufFalo-hido,
completed the dress of Paul Miiller, already men-
tioned by Wingenund to Reginald as the *' Black
Father ;" under which name, translated according
to their various languages, the pious and excellent
Missionary was known among the Delawares,
Osages, loways, Otoes, Konsas, and other tribes
then inhabiting the regions lying between the
Missouri and the Arkansas.
Such was the man who now came forward to
greet the newly-arrived party ; and such was the
irresistible charm of his voice and manner, that
from the first Reginald felt himself constrained
to love and respect him.
The feast being now ready, and Reginald hav-
ing pointed out Baptiste and Bearskin as his
officers, or lieutenants, they were invited with him
to sit down in the lodge of Tamenund, with the
principal chiefs of the Delawares, the Chief and
Great Medicine-man* of the Osages, and the
i
* "Medicine-men." This term (commonly used by traders
among the Indians beyond the Mississippi) signifies the
"priests," or " mystery-men," who are set apart for the cele-
bration of all religious rites and i remonies. They are the
iV^l.
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
335
Black Father. (Mike Smith, and the other white
men being feasted by a brave in an adjoining lodge.)
The pipe was lighted, and having been passed twice
round the party with silent gravity, the Great
Medicine made a speech, in which he praised the
virtues and hospitality of Tamenund, and paid
many compliments to the white guests ; after
which a substantial dinner was set before them,
consisting of roasted buffalo-ribs, venison, and
boiled maize.
■ I! .
Reginald had never before been present at an
Indian feast, and though he had the appetite
naturally belonging to his age and health, he soon
found that he was no match, as a trencherman,
for those among whom he was now placed ; and
before they had half-finished their meal, he re-
placed his knife in its sheath, and announced him-
self satisfied.
The old chief smiled good-humouredly, and said
that he would soon do better, whilst Mahega, qui-
etly commencing an attack upon a third buflfalo-
same class as those who were describcil by Charlevoix, and other
early French writers, as *' Jongleurs," because they unite
medical practice to their sacerdotal office, and, more especially
in the former, exercise all manner of absurd mummery, Their
dress, character, and habits vary according to the tribe to
which they belong; but they are genuine "Jongleurs"
throughout.
\,^i'^''
336
THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.
nb, glanced at him ^ith a look of contempt that
he was at no pains to conceal, and which, as may
well be imagined, increased our hero's dislike for
the gigantic Osage.
END OF THE FIBST VOLUME.
t
LONDOIirt
Printed by S. & j, Bsntlbt. Wilson, and Fley,
Bangor Houm, Shoe Lane.
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