Merry’s Adventures.
CHAPTER XVII.
I cannot easily make my readers, who have always lived in cities or towns, understand the pleasure of sleeping in the woods, with no roof but the sky. Perhaps most persons would think this a hardship, and so it would be, if we had to do it always: but by way of adventure now and then, and particularly when one is about seventeen, with such a clever fellow as Mat Olmsted for a companion and a guide, the thing is quite delightful.
The affair with the panther had excited my fancy, and filled my bosom with a deep sense of my own importance. It seemed to me that the famous exploits of Hercules, in Greece, which are told by the old poets, were, after all, such things as I could myself achieve, if the opportunity only should offer.
Occupied with these thoughts, I assisted Mat in collecting some fagots for our night fire—but every moment kept looking around, expecting to see some wild animal peeping his face between the trunks of the gray old oaks. In one instance I mistook a stump for a bear’s head, and in another I thought a bush at a little distance, was some huge monster, crouching as if to spring upon us.
The night stole on apace, and soon we were surrounded with darkness, which was rendered deeper by the fire we had kindled. The scene was now, even more wild than before: the trees that stood around, had the aspect of giants, lifting their arms to the sky;—and their limbs often assumed the appearance of serpents, or demons, goggling at us from the midnight darkness. Around us was a seeming tent, curtained with blackness, through which not a ray of light could penetrate.
I amused myself for a long time, in looking at these objects, and I remarked that they assumed different aspects at different times—a thing which taught me a useful lesson, and which I will give, gratis, to my young readers. It is this, that fancy, when indulged, has the power to change objects to suit its own wayward humor. Whoever wishes to be guided right, ought, therefore, to beware how he takes fancy for a guide.
When our fire had been burning for about half an hour, Matthew having unbuckled his pack, took out some dried deer’s flesh, upon which we made a hearty supper: we then began to talk about one thing and another, and, finally, I spoke of the Indians, expressing my curiosity to know more about them. Upon this, Mat said he would tell an Indian story, and accordingly, he proceeded nearly as follows:
These six nations, you must know, were not originally confined to this small tract of country, but they were spread far and wide over the land. Nor were they always united, but in former days they waged fierce wars with one another. It was the custom among all the tribes to put captives to death, by burning them, inflicting at the same time the most fearful tortures upon the victims. Sometimes, however, they adopted the captive, if he showed extraordinary fortitude, into the tribe, and gave him all the privileges of the brotherhood.
An instance of this sort occurred with the Senecas. They had been at war with the Chippewas, who lived to the north. Two small bands of these rival tribes met, and every one of the Chippewas was slain, save only a young chief named Hourka. He was taken, and carried to the village of the victorious Senecas. Expecting nothing but torture and death, he awaited his fate, without a question, or a murmur. In a day or two, he saw the preparations making for his sacrifice: a circular heap of dried fagots was erected, and near it a stake was driven in the ground.
To this he was tied, and the fagots were set on fire. The scorching blaze soon flashed near his limbs, but he shrunk not. An Indian then took a sharp piece of stone, and cut a gash in Hourka’s side, and inserted in it a blazing knot of pine. This burned down to the flesh, but still the sufferer showed no signs of distress. The people of the tribe, came around him, and jeered at him, calling him coward, and every other offensive name: but they extorted not from him an impatient word. The boys and the women seemed to be foremost in taunting him; they caught up blazing pieces of the fagots, and thrust them against his naked flesh; but yet, he stood unmoved, and his face was serene, showing, however, a slight look of disdain. There was something in his air which seemed to say, “I despise all your arts—I am an Indian chief, and beyond your power.”
Now it chanced that a daughter of an old chief of the Senecas, was there, and her heart was touched with the courage and manly beauty of the youthful Chippewa; so she determined to save his life if she could: and knowing that a crazy person is thought by the Indians to be inspired, she immediately pretended to be insane. She took a large fragment of the burning fagot in her hand, and circling around Hourka, screamed in the most fearful manner. She ran among the woman and boys, scattering the fire on all sides, and at the same time exclaiming, “Set the captive free,—it is the will of Manitto, the Great Spirit!”
This manoeuvre of the Indian maiden was so sudden, and her manner was so striking, that the Indians around were taken by a momentary impulse, and rushing to the captive, sundered the strings of bark that tied him to the stake, and, having set him at liberty, greeted him as a brother. From this time, Hourka became a member of the tribe into which he was thus adopted, and none treated him otherwise than as a chief, in whose veins the blood of the Senecas was flowing, save only a huge chief, called Abomico.
This Indian was of gigantic size, and proportionate power. He had taken more scalps in fight, than any other young chief, and was, therefore, the proudest of all the Senecas. He was looked upon by the girls of the tribe, very much as a young man is among us, who is worth a hundred thousand dollars. When, therefore, he said to Meena—the daughter of the chief who saved the life of Hourka—that he wanted her for his wife, he was greatly amazed to find that she did not fancy him. He went away wondering that he could be refused, but determining to try again. Now the long, dangling soaplocks, and filthy patches of beard, worn by our modern dandies, who desire to dazzle the eyes of silly girls—were not in vogue among the Senecas: but foppery is a thing known among savages as well as civilized people.
Accordingly, Abomico, when he had determined to push his suit with Meena, covered himself entirely over with a thick coat of bear’s grease; he then painted one side of his face yellow, the other blue; his arms he painted red; on his breast he drew the figure of a snake; on one leg he painted a skunk; on the other a bear. Around his neck he hung a necklace of bears’ claws, and on his arm he bore forty bloody scalps, which he had taken from the heads of enemies slain in battle; at his back was a quiver of arrows, and in his left hand was a bow. In his hair was stuck a bunch of eagles’ feathers; from his right ear swung the skin of a racoon; in his right hand he bore the wing of a crow.
Thus attired, Abomico marched toward the tent, where Meena dwelt with her father. Never was a beau of one of our cities, new from the hands of the tailor, more delighted with his appearance, than was this Indian dandy, as he drew near to the tent, and waited at the door for the maiden to appear. “If she can resist my charms now,”—thought Abomico,—“she must be bewitched indeed!”
Meena soon appeared—and the chief spoke to her again, begging her to become his wife. “Come!” said he—“go with me, and be the singing bird in my nest. I am a great warrior. I have slain forty brave men in battle. I have feasted on the flesh, and drunk the warm blood, of my enemies. I have the strongest arm, the truest hand, the swiftest foot, the keenest eye, of any chief in the mighty tribe of the Senecas.”
“It is not true!” said Meena.
“Not true?” said the chief, in great anger and astonishment. “Who dares to match himself with Abomico? Who can vie with him in the race? Who can shoot with him at the mark? Who can leap with him at the bar?”
“Hourka!” said Meena.
“It is a lie,” said Abomico; though I must say, that he meant no offence—because, among the Indians, such a speech was not a discourtesy.
“Nay—nay,” said Meena—“I speak the truth; you have come to ask me to be your wife. Hourka has made the same request. You shall both try your power in the race and the leap, and at the bow. He who shall be the master in the trial, may claim Meena for his slave.”
This proposition was gladly accepted, and Hourka being informed of it, a time for the trial was appointed. The people of the village soon heard what was going on; and, as the Indians are always fond of shows and holidays, they rejoiced to hear of the promised sport.
The day of the trial arrived. In a grassy lawn, the sport was to be held; and here the throng assembled. It was decreed by the chiefs that the first trial should be with the bow. A large leaf was spread out upon a forked branch of a tree, and this was set in the ground, at the distance of about fifty yards. Abomico shot first, and his arrow pierced the leaf, within half an inch of the centre. Hourka followed, and his arrow flew wide from the mark, not even touching the leaf. He seemed indeed careless, and reckless. But, as he turned his eye upon Meena, he saw a shade of sorrow come over her face.
In an instant the manner of the young chief changed. He said to himself,—“I have been mistaken: I thought the maiden slighted me and preferred my rival: but now I know that she loves me, and I can now beat Abomico.”
There were to be three trials of the bow. In the two which followed the first, which we have described, Hourka had the advantage and was pronounced the victor. And now came the leap. A pole was set horizontally upon stakes, to the height of about five feet, and Hourka, running a little distance, cleared it easily. Abomico followed, and he also leaped over it with facility. It was then raised about a foot, and Hourka, bounding like a deer of the wood, sprang over the pole, amid the admiring shouts of the multitude. Abomico made a great effort, and he too went over, but his foot grazed the piece of wood, and the victory here again was awarded to Hourka.
The face of the haughty Abomico, now grew dark as the thunder-cloud. He could bear to be rejected by Meena; but to be thus vanquished before the whole tribe, and that too by one who had not the real blood of a Seneca, was more than his pride could bear. He was, therefore, plotting some scheme of revenge, when the race was marked out by the chiefs. It was decreed that they should run side by side to a broad river which was near; that they should swim across; ascend on the opposite bank to a place above a lofty cataract in the river, and recrossing the river there, return to the point of their departure.
The place occupied by the spectators, was so elevated as to command a fine view of the entire race-ground; and the interest was intense, as the two chiefs departed, bounding along, side by side, like two coursers. The race was long nearly equal. They came to the river, and at the same moment both plunged into the water. They swam across, and at the same moment clambered up the rocky bank on the other shore. Side by side they ran, straining every muscle. They ascended to the spot above the roaring cataract, and plunged into the river; then drew near the place where the water broke over the rocks in a mighty sheet, making the earth tremble with the shock of their fall. Still the brave swimmers heeded not the swift current that drew them toward the precipice. Onward they pressed, cutting the element like ducks, and still side by side.
Intense was the interest of the spectators, as they witnessed the strife. But what was their amazement, when they saw Abomico rise above the wave, grapple Hourka and drag him directly toward the edge of the cataract. There was a shout of horror, through the tribe, and then a deathlike silence. The struggle of the two rivals was fearful, but in a short space, clinging to each other, they rolled over the precipice, and disappeared among the mass of foam, far and deep below!
Killed, by falling on the rocks, and gashed by many a ghastly wound, the huge form of Abomico was soon seen drifting down the stream; while Hourka swam to the shore, and claimed his willing bride, amid the applauses of men, women and children.
