CHAPTER X.
The noble courser broke away.
And bounded o'er the plain?
The desert echoed to his tread,
As high he toss'd his graceful head,
And shook his flowing name.
King of the Western deserts! Thou
Art still untam'd and free!
Ne'er shall that crest he forced to bow
Beneath the yoke of drudgery low:
But still in freedom shalt thou roam
The boundless fields that form thy home
Thy native Prairie!' ANON.
The camp of the Indian hunters looked cheerful and picturesque, as Oriana and Mailah approached it one evening on their return from a ramble in the forest, where they had been to seek the wild fruits that now abounded there, and paused at the skirt of the wood, to admire the scene before them. The proposed hunting-ground had been reached the preceding day, and already the temporary huts were completed, and the tents of the Sachem pitched beneath a grove of lofty oaks and walnuts, free from underwood, and on the border of a clear and rippling stream. The Nausett and Pequodee hunters had purchased a considerable number of horses from their Cree friends; and, therefore, the journey from Chingook's village to the prairie, in which the encampment now stood, had been performed with much ease and expedition; and the hardy animals were so little fatigued by their march through the forest, that several of the younger Indians had mounted again the morning after their arrival, and gone off on a reconnoitering expedition, to discover what prospect there was of finding much game in that neighborhood.
Henrich—proud and happy in the possession of a spirited horse, with which Tisquantum had presented him—insisted on being one of the party; end he was accompanied, also, by Jyanough, who had left his native village, now rendered sad and gloomy in his eyes, to follow his white friend, and share his society at least for a time. This arrangement gave Henrich the greatest satisfaction for the young Cree was the only Indian of his own sex in whom he had been able to find a companion, or who had peculiarly attached himself to the stranger: and the more he saw of Jyanough the more he found in him to win his esteem and friendship.
Oriana and Mailah seated themselves on the luxuriant grass to rest; and the young Indian mother removed her child from the strange cradle in which she always carried it, and laid it on her knees; and then, after gazing at it for a few moments, she began to sing a wild, sweet song, to hush it to sleep. In a soft, monotonous cadence, she sang the sad story of its little life—its birth—its captivity—and the death of its murdered father, whom she exhorted it to imitate, and live to equal in courage and in skill. And thus she sang:
'Child of the slain Lincoya, sleep In peace! Thy mother wakes to guard thee. But where is he whose smile once fell on thee as sunshine—thy father, Lincoya? He is gone to the far distant hunting-grounds and there, again, he casts the spear; and there he draws the unerring bow; and there he quaffs the cup of immortality, with the spirits of the good and brave. O Lincoya! thy voice was to me as a sweet song, or as the summer breeze among the tall cypress trees—why didst thou leave me? Thy step was swift and graceful as the roe upon the mountains—why didst thou leave me? But I will follow thee, my warrior, The death-bird has called me, and I come to thee! Thy child shall live; for Mahneto has given him friends and a home. He shall grow up like thee, and Oriana shill be o mother to him when I am gone: and the blue-eyed stranger, whom she loves as I loved thee, shall guide his hand in war, and in the chase. Lincoya! I come to thee!
Oriana listened to the mournful chant of the young widow with much interest and sympathy; but when she spoke of her love for her white brother, in terms so new and strange, she almost felt offended. She did not, however, remark on her friend's allusion to herself, but turned the discourse to Mailah's sad prophecy of her own early death, which she knew could only be grounded on one of the wild superstitions of her race.
'Why do you talk of dying, Mailah?' she asked. 'You are young and strong; and you may again be happy. Why do you say you will leave your child, and go to the land of spirits?'
'The death-bird[*] called to me last night, as I sat at the open door of the hut, and looked at the moon, and thought how its soft light was guiding my Lincoya on long, long, journey, to the everlasting hunting fields of his fathers. Cheepai-Peethees called me twice from the tree that hung over the lodge; but when I called to it again, and whistled clearly, it made no answer. I heard it the day before the Crees destroyed our village. It called my husband then, and would not answer him; and in two days he was slain. The death-bird is never mistaken.
[Footnote: A small owl called Cheepai-Peethees, or the death-bird, which the Indians attach the superstition here alluded to, and believe, if it does not answer to their whistle, it denotes their speedy death.]
O, Mailah!' replied the young Christian squaw, 'say not so. Surely it is not thus that the great Mahneto calls His children to come to Him. Once I believed all these Indian stories; but now I know that they are false and vain. I know that our lives, and all things that befall us, are in the hands of the wise and good God—the Mahneto of the Christians and of the red men too. And now I have no fear of any of those strange sounds that used to make me sad, and terrify me with thoughts of coming evil. I most teach you to believe as I do now: or, rather, my white brother shall teach you; for he knows the words of Mahneto himself. See, Mailah! There my brother comes—let us go to meet him.'
A flush of joy mounted to the clear olive cheek of Oriana as she said these words, and she sprang to her feet with the lightness of a fawn. Mailah rose more gently, and replacing her infant in the pouch, slung it over her shoulder, and followed her friend, softly whispering in her ear, The white stranger is your Lincoya.'
The Indian beauty smiled, and blushed more deeply: but she did not bound across the glade to meet Henrich as she had purposed doing. She drew her slender figure to its full height, and stood still; and as Henrich galloped across the green meadow, and alighted, full of animation, to tell her of his success in his first essay at hunting the elk, he wondered why she greeted him so coldly.
The fact was that Oriana was beginning to find that the blue-eyed stranger possessed even more interest in her eyes than she had ever felt for her own dark brother, Tekon; and when Mailah had openly alluded to this sentiment—which she thought unknown to all but herself—her natural and instinctive delicacy was wounded. But the feeling quickly wore away; and as Henrich and Jyanough detailed the exciting sports of the day, she forgot all but the pleasure of listening to his voice, and gazing at his fine countenance and bright sweet smile. She was happy; and she though not of the future.
And Henrich was happy, too. He had now found companions whom he could love; and the life of the Indian hunters was all that he had ever pictured to himself of freedom and adventure. The beauty of the scenery—the clearness of the sky—and the glow of health and excitement that animated his whole frame when he joined in the chase with his savage friends, were all so entirely different to the life he had led in damp and foggy Holland, that it was no wonder he enjoyed it, and that his youthful spirits enabled him to subdue the oft-recurring grief that he felt at each remembrance of his family and his home. Hope was strong in his breast; and he trusted once again to meet all whom he loved so dearly: and the present was so bright and inspiring that he could not desire to change it yet.
For many weeks the camp remained pitched in the same lovely situation; and the time of the hunters was fully occupied in the discovery and pursuit of the various wild animals that abounded in the uncultivated, but richly verdant, prairie. Of these, the elk and the buffalo were the most common victims to the spears and arrows of the Indians; and every evening large quantities of meat were brought into the camp, and given to the care of the squaws to dry and cure for winter consumption. These larger animals were too heavy to be transported whole to the huts; end therefore the hunters always skinned them and cut off the flesh where they fell, and left the carcasses to the wolves and the birds of prey that were ever ready at hand. But the smaller animals, and the wild turkeys and other birds, that were killed in great numbers, were brought in and thrown down by the blazing camp fires, that lighted up the glade every night, and were speedily prepared and cooked for the supper of the hungry hunters.
As the leader of the expedition, Tisquantum was always presented with the choicest of the game; and it was Oriana's task to superintend the curing of the elk and buffalo meat, and the cooking that was required for her father's lodge. In all these household cares she was greatly assisted by Mailah, who was both active and skilful in all the duties of an Indian squaw: and eager also to evince her gratitude for the kindness and protection that were afforded to herself and her child by the Nausett Chief, by doing all that she could to lighten Oriana's labors. Time and occupation did not fail to have their usual effect on one so young, and naturally so light-hearted as Mailah; and animated cheerfulness took the place of the mournful expression that had hitherto so frequently sat on her countenance. She did not forget Lincoya; but she forgot the call of the death-bird: and when she sang her child to sleep, it was no longer with the same sad cadence as at first. Sorrow could not strike very deep, or abide very long in the heart of a being so gay, and with a mind and feelings so utterly uncultivated as those of the young Stone Indian. Neither could she live so much in the society of the white stranger, and his two chosen companions, without imbibing something of their intelligence, and becoming sensible of their superiority of mind to all others with whom she had ever associated: and she grew more and more attached to them, and learnt to regret less the friends and companions among whom her youth had been spent.
She was a high-spirited and courageous creature: she would have followed her husband unhesitatingly to death, had she been called on to do so; or she would have died to save him, if her life could have availed to purchase his. But now that he was gone, and she could not even weep over his grave, and deck it with flowers and gifts, her lively spirit rose again, and led her to seek amusement and occupation in everything within her reach.
The accounts which Henrich and Jyanough continually gave to her and Oriana of their exciting adventures in the prairie, had aroused in both of them a strong desire to be spectators of the sport; and they sought and obtained Tisquantum's permission to accompany the hunters one morning to the buffalo ground that lay nearest to the camp, and there to witness the pursuit and capture of some of those magnificent animals.
A short ride through the forest brought the party out upon a vast and glorious prairie, on which the rich autumnal sun was shining in all his strength. On a rising ground that partially overlooked the plain, Oriana and her companion took up their position, beneath the shade of a grove of pines; and they watched the hunters as they examined the foot- prints on the dewy turf, or followed the tracks of the elks and buffaloes through the long prairie-grass, in order to make their arrangements for enclosing the game and driving the animals into an open and central situation.
In the course of this examination, the recent tracks of a number of wild horses were discovered, and fresh excitement was felt by the whole party, for all were desirous to attempt the capture of these most valuable animals; and they resolved, on this occasion, to make them the chief objects of their pursuit. A ring was, therefore, formed by the numerous company of horsemen, enclosing a very large space of the beautiful park-like ground, which was studded with trees, either single or in groups; while underneath them, in the distance, could be seen many buffaloes lying down or grazing. The scene had the appearance of a wide extent of finely-cultivated pasture, ornamented with timber of every kind; end it forcibly recalled to Henrich's memory the fields and the cattle that had surrounded his European home. But the size of the trees, the extent of the natural meadow, and, above all, the wild aspect of the red hunters with their spears, and bows, and tomahawks, soon destroyed the fancied resemblance; while the eagerness and excitement of the novel sport banished all the sad recollections to which it had given rise. A desire also to distinguish himself in the presence of Oriana, and show her that a pale-face could equal her own dark race in courage and dexterity, inspired him with peculiar ardor; and he galloped to the station appointed him by Tisquantum, with a heart that bounded with pride and pleasure.
The hunters were each provided with a long coil of grass rope, with a noose at the end—now called a lariat or lasso—used by the Indians for casting over the horns of the elks and buffaloes, or the necks of the wild horses, that they desired to capture. These they carried in such a manner as to be ready to throw them off in an instant to their whole length, if necessary; but much practice is required to do this with precision, and Henrich did not yet hope for success in the difficult art. His only chance of capturing a wild courser lay in his skill in casting the spear, which might enable him to pierce the animal through the upper part of the neck, and thus produce a temporary insensibility, during which time he might be secured without any permanent injury. This also requires great precision and address; but Henrich had become an adept in the use of the light lance, and he felt sanguine of success if the opportunity should he afforded him.
The string of horsemen slowly and warily drew in towards the open spot that was intended to be the scene of their operations, and of which Oriana and Mailah had a good view from their safe and elevated position; and soon a troop of wild horses were disturbed by one of the hunters, and burst forth from a thick grove of trees that had previously concealed them. They rushed madly over the plain, mingling with the affrighted buffaloes and American deer, that had not hitherto perceived the stealthy approach of their foes. At every point where they attempted to escape from the enclosure they were met by a mounted huntsman, and were driven back, with shouts and cries, towards the center. All other game was now forgotten; and each hunter singled out, for his own object of pursuit, the steed that pleased him best, and of which he thought he could most easily gain possession. But one there was—the leader of the troop—on which many eyes were fixed with eager desire. He was a noble creature, of perfect form and proportions; and as he pranced before his companions, with neck erect, and throwing his head from side to side, as if to reconnoiter his assailants—while his mane and tail floated in the breeze, and his glossy coal-black skin gave back the rays of the morning sun—he looked like the King of the Prairie, going forth in the pride of perfect freedom.
The ring grew smaller and smaller; and every hand was steady, and every eye was fixed for the moment of trial: and soon the headlong pursuit commenced. At the first scattering of the wild troop, several of the younger and more feeble horses were secured; and some of the hunters, who despaired of nobler game, contented themselves with capturing or slaying either elks or buffaloes. But the finest horses escaped the first assault, and broke through the circling ring into the boundless meadow, where they were followed at mad speed by the hunters, poising their spears, and swinging their nooses round their heads, ready for a cast. Henrich and Jyanough, and several others of the best mounted Indians, had joined in the chase of the black leader, and dashed furiously after him over the plain. The horse that the English boy rode was strong and fleet, and the light weight of his rider enabled him to keep with the foremost of the red hunters' steeds, and, at length, to come almost alongside the noble courser. The spear was poised in Henrich's hand, and was just about to fly, when suddenly his horse fell to the ground, and rolled over on the turf, leaving his rider prostrate, but uninjured, except being stunned for a moment by the shock.
When he opened his eyes, and sprang to his feet, he saw the king of the desert galloping up a rising ground, over which he quickly disappeared, still hotly pursued by Coubitant and several of the hunters. Jyanough and the rest of his companions, had dismounted to assist their fallen friend, and to form conjectures as to the probable cause of the unlucky accident. For some time none could be perceived; but on carefully examining his horse, Henrich at length discovered a small wound in the hind leg, and found that the creature was lame. How, or by whom, the wound had been given, he could not even surmise; for in the eagerness of the chase he had not observed that Coubitant rode close behind him: and that he had passed him at full speed the moment his horse stumbled and fell. But Jyanough had remarked it; and from what he had already seen of the wily Indian, he felt convinced that, prompted by malicious jealousy, he had thus sought to deprive his rival of his hoped-for success, and, perhaps, even to inflict on him some grievous personal injury.
The young Indian had, however, the good sense to conceal his suspicions from Henrich at present, and to allow him to regard the whole affair as accidental; but he determined to keep a strict watch over the conduct of Coubitant for the future, and, if possible, to guard his friend from all his evil machinations.
Soon the Nausett and the rest of the hunters returned from their fruitless chase, and reported the escape of the noble wild coursers and when Jyanough heard the regrets that Coubitant expressed for the accident that had befallen Henrich, and the condolences he offered on his having thus missed the object which otherwise his skill most surely have attained, he could scarcely contain his indignation at such hypocrisy, or refrain from opening the eyes of the unsuspicious young Englishman.
They all returned together, at a slow pace, to the main body of the hunters, for Henrich's horse was too lame to be mounted; and, as soon as the adventure was made known, much sympathy and interest were shown for the disappointment of the pale-face, in which Oriana's countenance and manner showed she partook so warmly, that Coubitant turned aside to conceal his anger and vexation, and heartily wished that his well-aimed blow had not only deprived Henrich of the glory of that day's hunting, but had also put a stop for ever to the success for which he both hated and envied him.
The sport continued, after this interruption, as actively as before, but neither Henrich nor his horse could take any further share in it; and he remained with Oriana and Mailah, enjoying the beauty of the scenery, and gathering flowers and fruit for his companions, and for the little. Lincoya, who, freed from the restraint of his moss-lined bed, now rolled on the turf with Rodolph, and played with the gentle and intelligent animal.
How happy was Oriana that day! She was proud of the gallant bearing of her 'white brother' among the red warriors of her own wild race, and she had exulted at the praises which she had heard bestowed on his address as a hunter, and his shill in horsemanship, by Tisquantum and the elder Indians; and now, though she regretted his accident, and the disappointment which it had caused him, she did not suspect that it had been effected by the malice of a deadly enemy, and she rejoiced that it had given her the pleasure of his society for the rest of the day—a pleasure which she had but seldom enjoyed since their arrival in the prairie.
At the close of the day the game was collected, and, after due preparation, was carried back to the camp, where the squaws had already lighted the evening fires, and made every necessary arrangement for cooking the expected supper. Around these fires the hunters sat in groups, and discussed the events of the day, among which the accident that had befallen the pale-face excited much interest and conjecture. Jyanough listened to the probable and improbable causes that were assigned by all the speakers, especially by Coubitant, to account for so strange a circumstance; but he held his peace, for in his inmost soul he was only more and more convinced that the subtle and dark- brewed savage was the perpetrator of the malicious deed.
In this suspicion, he was the more strongly confirmed by an event that occurred a few days afterwards. It had been discovered that the stream that ran so gently by the side of the encampment fell, at some distance to the west, into a river of considerable size and depth, which then ran on over a descending and rocky bed, forming alternately smooth broad sheets of water and noisy broken falls, until it precipitated itself over a sudden precipice of great depth, and fell dashing and foaming into the basin which its continual fall had worn in the rocks below. The distant roar of this cataract had frequently been heard in the camp, when the wind came from that direction, and when the stillness of the night—broken only by the occasional howl of wild beasts seeking their prey, or the melancholy cry of the goat-sucker[*] succeeded to the sounds of labor or idleness that generally kept the temporary village alive by day. But, hitherto, no one had had leisure or inclination to leave the excitement and novelty of hunting to explore the river, or ascertain its capabilities for fishing.
[Footnote: This mournful sound is believed by the Indians to be the moaning of the departed spirits of women who have committed infanticide; and who are, consequently, excluded by Mahneto from the happy mountains which are the abode of the blessed.]
Now, however, Coubitant brought in a report one evening that the great stream abounded in fish; and proposed in to Henrich that, as he was for the present unable to join in the more active business of the chase, he should assist him in forming a light canoe, in which they could go out and spear the game that lay beneath the clear blue water in the smooth reaches of the river.
To this proposal Henrich readily assented; for the sport was one of which he had beard his Indian friends speak with great pleasure, and he greatly wished to enjoy it. The canoe was immediately commenced; and as it merely consisted of the trunk of a straight tulip-tree, hollowed out by means of fire, and shaped with a hatchet, it was completed in a couple of days.
The light spears that were to pierce the fish were prepared, and long slender lines of twisted grass were fastened to their shafts for the purpose of drawing in their prey; and the following morning, when the hunters were ready to set out on their usual expedition, Coubitant desired Henrich to accompany him to the river side, where their little bark lay ready to receive them. Why, on hearing this proposal, did Jyanough still linger when all the rest of the hunters were mounted, and his own steed was pawing the ground, impatient of his master's delay? And why, after gazing a few moments at Coubitant's dark countenance, did he declare his wish to join the fishing party, and requested the Nausett to allow him to take a place in the canoe? Did he see treachery in that eye of fire? Jyanough could lend his horse to the pale-face, if he should happen to wish to hunt.
His request was, however, negatived decidedly by Coubitant; who assured him, with assumed courtesy, that he regretted the size of the boat was too small to admit of its carrying a third sportsman with safety; but invited him to join him in the same sport the following day, when, he added—with that smile that Oriana hated—Jyanough could lend his horse to the pale-face, if he should happen to wish to hunt.
The young Cree was baffled. He would gladly have pre vented his friend from accompanying Coubitant on the expedition; but be had no means of doing so, or even of putting him on his guard against any possible evil designs on the part of his companion. So he sprang upon his eager horse, and galloped after the hunters, hoping that his fears and suspicions were unfounded.
Oriana and Mailah, attended by their faithful companion Rodolph, walked down to the edge of the river, to see the fishermen embark in their frail vessel; and, for some time, they watched the sport with considerable interest, and admired the skill with which Coubitant pierced and brought up several large fish. These he attracted towards the canoe by means of some preparation that he scattered on the surface of the water; and when the fish appeared within reach of his spear, he darted it with unerring aim, and drew in his struggling victim with the line that was attached to it. Henrich was also provided with weapons; but as the sport was entirely new to him, he found it difficult to take a steady aim, and his success was slight.
Coubitant, however, had soon secured a considerable stock of fish, and he rowed to the shore, and requested Oriana and her companion to convey them to the Sachem's lodge; adding, in a careless tone, that it would not be worth their while to return to the river, as he was going to a reach at some distance down the stream, towards the head of the cataract, where he expected to show Henrich excellent sport.
The two young women returned to the camp; and, having committed the fine fish to the care of the inferior squaws, they agreed to go again towards the river, and take this opportunity of visiting the falls, which they much desired to see, and near which they should probably again meet the fishermen. They rambled through the wood, taking a direct course towards the cataract, the sound of whose waters soon became sufficiently audible to guide them in their unknown way. Sometimes they came in sight of the river; and again they saw the little canoe, either standing motionless on the smooth surface of the water where the stream was wide and unbroken, or else passing, under the skilful guidance of Coubitant, between the rocks that occasionally disturbed its course, and formed foaming rapids, down which the little bark darted with fearful velocity.
The last reach of the broad river was as calm and smooth as a lake. It seemed as if the collected mass of water, which had gathered there from many a broken and troubled stream, and had struggled through many windings and many difficulties, was reposing there, and gaining strength for its last great leap over the dark precipice. As Oriana and Mailah approached the verge of the scattered forest, and stood to gaze on the magnificent scene before them, they perceived the canoe descend a narrow rapid, and then take up a position below an elevated mass of rock, where the water was perfectly still, and where the fishermen could quietly pursue their occupation. They evidently did not perceive their female friends, and the roar of the cataract was now so loud as to prevent all possibility of their hearing their voices. For a short time Oriana and her friend watched their movements, and saw several fish captured; and then proceeded along the steep and rocky bank, in order to obtain a still better view of the waterfall.
It was a beautiful scene on which those two young Indians looked; and they felt its power and grandeur, and stood silent and motionless. The cataract was beneath them; and its roar came up like thunder from the dark deep basin into which its weight of waters fell, and threw up a cloud of foam and spray; and then it rushed away again, as if in gladness at its safe descent and free course, until the shining stream was hidden by the rocks and overhanging trees that marked its winding course. The natural platform on which Oriana and Mailah stood, commanded a view not only of the wild cataract and the lower stretch of the river, but also of the bold steep rocks on the opposite side, and the dark forest that stretched away to the distant mountains that bounded the horizon. It likewise enabled them to perceive the small canoe, lying motionless on the water, in the shadow of the projecting rock.
By and by the boat was rowed into the center of the river, and Coubitant appeared to be seeking for a good fishing spot, as he pointed in different directions, and once or twice darted his spear into the water, and drew it out again without any success. Meanwhile, the canoe floated slowly down the stream, but its motion gradually increased as it approached the fall; and Oriana gazed at it, expecting every moment that Coubitant, who had now taken the oar in his powerful grasp, would turn its course, and either draw towards the shore; or else row back again up the river, and land below the first rapids. To her surprise, and somewhat to her anxiety, he still continued, however, to allow the canoe to proceed; and she saw Henrich take a dart in his hand, and stand erect as if to strike at something beneath the surface, to which Coubitant pointed with the paddle. Another instant, and her white brother was in the water, and struggling to catch the side of the canoe! Breathlessly she gazed; and she distinctly saw the paddle which Coubitant held, extended towards the uplifted hand of Henrich. Still he did not grasp it! O! why was this? And then the boat, which bad already floated perilously near to the fall, was Suddenly turned, and she beheld Coubitant making violent efforts to overcome the force of the current, and row to the opposite and nearest shore. He was alone!
And where was Henrich? Where was the brave young stranger? Battling desperately with the rapid stream which was carrying him onward to destruction. He rose and sank, rose again, and the current bore him on with resistless force. For a moment, Oriana clasped her hands over her eyes, to shut out the dreadful sight; and then, as if inspired by a gleam of supernatural hope, she darted forward, calling Rodolph, and pointing to the stream. The intelligent creature had seen the form of Henrich in the water, and only waited his mistress's command to risk his life in the attempt to save him. But his sagacity taught him that it was useless to enter the river above the fall; and he bounded down the steep bank that led to its foot, and stood eager, and panting, on a point of rock that overhung the basin. Oriana was quickly on the same spot, followed by Mailah; but ere they reached it, the dog had plunged into the foaming waters, and now appeared, upholding the inanimate form of Henrich, and struggling fearfully to drag him from the whirlpool.
O, it was a sickening sight! and Oriana's heart stood still in the agony of suspense She could not aid her brother! She could not cope with that mad whirl of water! But she leaped down the steep rocks, and stood on the narrow ledge of shore below, to wait the moment for action. At length—after what appeared almost a hopeless conflict with the dashing waters—Rodolph appeared through the cloud of foam and slowly and feebly swam towards the shore, still supporting the lifeless burden that seemed almost to drag him beneath the surface.
Now was the time for the Indian girl to prove her skill and courage. Lightly she sprang into the water, and in a moment she was at Rodolphs side; and, with one arm sustaining the drooping head of Henrich, while, with the other, she dexterously swam back to the spot where Mailah stood ready to assist her. With much difficulty they lifted the senseless form of Henrich on the shore, and proceeded to adopt every means in their power to restore suspended animation; while Rodolph—the faithful devoted Rodolph—lay down panting and exhausted, but still keeping a watchful eye on him whom he had so daringly rescued. Long the two young Indians labored in silence, and almost in despair; for no color returned to those pallid lips, and no warmth was perceptible in the chilled and stiffened hands, that fell powerless by his side. Still they persevered: and no tear, no lamentation, betrayed the anguish that wrung the heart of Oriana, while she believed that all was in vain. But her soul was lifted up in prayer to the One True God, in whom she had been taught to put her trust by her beloved white brother: and in His mercy was her only hope.
Nor was that hope in vain. The warm beams of the mid-day sun fell powerfully on that sheltered spot where the little group were gathered, and, combined with the continued friction that Oriana and Mailah employed, at length brought back the life-blood to Henrich's cheeks and lips, and his anxious nurses had the joy of perceiving that he breathed. A few minutes more, and he opened his deep blue eyes, and looked wildly around him, and spoke some English words that Oriana heard amid the din of the falling waters, and knew were of his home and his kindred. And then he uttered her own name, and attempted to rise, but fell back again into her arms, and smiled sweetly and gratefully when her eyes met his, and he saw that she was watching over him. There was joy—deep joy and gratitude—in those young hearts at that moment; but Henrich's weakness, and the noise of, the roaring cataract, prevented them from communicating their feelings in words, and Oriana forbore to ask any questions of Henrich relative to the cause of his perilous adventure.
After some time he seemed greatly to recover, and, rising from the ground, he slowly mounted the bank, supported by Oriana and her friend. But it was evident that he was quite unable to proceed on foot to the camp, and it was agreed that Mailah should return as quickly as possible and bring such assistance as she could procure from thence, while Henrich and Oriana should advance as far as his enfeebled state would admit of.
Mailah's light form soon disappeared in the wood, and it was not long ere she reached the camp, and hastened to the tent of Tisquantum, who, on that day, had not joined the hunting party. She told her story, in which the old Chief showed the deepest interest; and she observed a dark frown on his brow while she related the unsuccessful attempts of Coubitant to draw Henrich from the water with his paddle; but he made no remark.
The hunters were still absent, and few men remained in the camp. These were all engaged in felling wood and other laborious employments, and Tisquantum prepared to lead his own horse out to meet his adopted son. But, just as he and Mailah were leaving the camp for this purpose, Coubitant came rapidly up from the river's brink, and, hurrying towards them, began to relate, with expressions of grief and consternation, the sad fate which he believed to have befallen the young stranger, and the exertions that he had made to save his life, but which had, unhappily, proved unavailing to avert the calamity. The sorrow of the Nausett Indian seemed excessive; and Tisquantum probably considered it so, for he listened with perfect calmness to his recital, and then merely replied, 'Happily, the youth is safe. Mahneto has succored him, and I go to bring him back to the camp.'
Coubitant started: and he looked embarrassed for a moment, when he caught the penetrating eye of Mailah fixed on his countenance. But he quickly recovered his self-possession, and manifested such joy at the escape of the white stranger from a watery grave, that Mailah almost chid herself for her dreadful suspicions.
Coubitant accompanied her and the Sachem on their way through the forest, and when they met Henrich and Oriana, he again assumed such an appearance of pleasure, and so warmly congratulated the former on his miraculous deliverance, that the generous English youth strove to banish from his mind the fearful thoughts that had arisen there while he struggled for life close to the canoe, and wondered at the want of skill and strength displayed by his companion in his abortive attempts to save him. Oriana coldly received his greeting. She had long suspected that he regarded Henrich with hatred and jealousy; and her worst suspicions had that day received a strong confirmation. Still she resolved to conceal them—at least at present—from all but Jyanough, whose friendship for Henrich would, she knew, render him peculiarly alive to all that concerned his safety.
She had not long to wait, for the hunters soon returned; and she observed that, when Jyanough heard the story of the day's adventure, he cast a glance on Coubitant that made the conscious savage quail. But when she related to the young Cree all that she and Mailah had observed, he could restrain his feelings no longer, and plainly told her that he was convinced that Coubitant was the author of the calamity, and that it was not the first attempt he had made at Henrich's life.
They resolved that he should communicate all his suspicions to the Sachem the following morning, and urge him to take measures for the safety of his adopted son: but what was Jyanough's surprise, when he opened the subject to Tisquantum, at being informed that Coubitant had already left the camp with the Pequodees! Jyanough knew that it was their intention that morning, at day-break, to set off on their return to their own woods and plains, and he found that the wily Nausett had expressed a desire to accompany them, and join in the war that was going on between their tribe and some of their neighbors, in order to distinguish himself as a warrior. It was not the Sachem's intention to rejoin his tribe for a considerable time. He was fond of wandering, and proposed to travel towards the north when the hunting season should be over; and he also felt a reluctance to take his now greatly beloved captive back to that part of the country where it was possible he might gain intelligence of his friends, or, perhaps, even make his escape to them. He had, therefore, consented to Coubitant's request, and evidently felt an undefined satisfaction in his absence.
This being the case, and the departure of Coubitant having removed all present danger to Henrich from his malicious schemes, Jyanough forbore to express all he felt to the old Sachem; and he returned to Oriana with the pleasant intelligence that the enemy of her white brother had departed.
To the young Squaw-Sachem this news imparted infinite relief; and even Henrich could not regret it, although he found it difficult to believe that all the suspicions of his friends were well-founded. Still the events of the preceding day were quite sufficient to make him doubt more than ever the sincerity of Coubitant's professed regard; and he felt that he should be happier now that the dark-browed savage was gone. To his pleasant life of freedom we will now leave him, and return to New Plymouth, where many events—deeply interesting to the settlers—had occurred since his involuntary departure, and supposed death.