It was with feelings of horror and terror that the Christian children listened to this fearful tale, and Indiana read in their averted eyes and pale faces the feelings with which the recital of the tale of blood had inspired them. And then it was that as they sat beneath the shade of the trees, in the soft misty light of an Indian summer moon, that Catharine, with simple earnestness, taught her young disciple those heavenly lessons of mercy and forgiveness which her Redeemer had set forth by his life, his doctrines, and his death.
And she told her, that if she would see that Saviour’s face in Heaven, and dwell with him in joy and peace for ever, she must learn to pray for those dreadful men who had made her fatherless and motherless, and her home a desolation; that the fire of revenge must be quenched within her heart, and the spirit of love alone find place within it, or she could not become the child of God and an inheritor of the kingdom of Heaven. How hard were these conditions to the young heathen,—how contrary to her nature, to all that she had been taught in the tents of her fathers, where revenge was virtue, and to take the scalp of an enemy a glorious thing!
Yet when she contrasted the gentle, kind, and dovelike characters of her Christian friends, with the fierce bloody people of her tribe and of her Ojebwa enemies, she could not but own they were more worthy of love and admiration: had they not found her a poor miserable trembling captive, unbound her, fed and cherished her, pouring the balm of consolation into her wounded heart, and leading her in bands of tenderest love to forsake those wild and fearful passions that warred in her soul, and bringing her to the feet of the Saviour, to become his meek and holy child, a lamb of his “extended fold?” *
[*Footnote: The Indian who related this narrative to me was a son of a Rice Lake chief, Mosang Poudash by name, who vouched for its truth as an historic fact remembered by his father, whose grandsire had been one of the actors in the massacre. Mosang Poudash promised to write down the legend, and did so in part, but made such confusion between his imperfect English and Indian language, that the MS. was unavailable for copying.]
CHAPTER IX.
“The horn of the hunter is heard on the hill” Irish Song.
WHILE the Indians were actively pursuing their sports on the lake, shooting wild fowl, and hunting and fishing by torch-light, so exciting was the amusement of watching them, that the two lads, Hector and Louis, quite forgot all sense of danger, in the enjoyment of lying or sitting on the brow of the mount near the great ravine, and looking at their proceedings. Once or twice the lads were near betraying themselves to the Indians, by raising a shout of delight, at some skilful manoeuvre that excited their unqualified admiration and applause.
At night, when the canoes had all retired to the camp on the north shore, and all fear of detection had ceased for the time, they lighted up their shanty fire, and cooked a good supper, and also prepared sufficiency of food for the following day. The Indians remained for a fortnight; at the end of that time Indiana, who was a watchful spy on their movements, told Hector and Louis that the camp was broken up, and that the Indians had gone up the river, and would not return again for some weeks. The departure of the Indians was a matter of great rejoicing to Catharine, whose dread of these savages had greatly increased since she had been made acquainted with the fearful deeds which Indiana had described; and what reliance could she feel in people who regarded deeds of blood and vengeance as acts of virtuous heroism?
Once, and only once during their stay, the Indians had passed within a short distance of their dwelling; but they were in full chase of a bear, which had been seen crossing the deep ravine near Mount Ararat, and they had been too intent upon their game to notice the shanty, or had taken it for the shelter of some trapper if it had been seen, for they never turned out of their path, and Catharine, who was alone at the time, drawing water from the spring, was so completely concealed by the high bank above her, that she had quite escaped their notice. Fortunately, Indiana gave the two boys a signal to conceal themselves when she saw them enter the ravine; and effectually hidden among the thick grey mossy trunks of the cedars at the lake shore, they remained secure from molestation, while the Indian girl dropped noiselessly down among the tangled thicket of wild vines and brushwood, which she drew cautiously over her, and closed her eyes, lest, as she naively remarked, their glitter should be seen and betray her to her enemies.