Chapter Twelve.
Kinesasis’s Wonderful Story—How he wooed Shakoona—Their Youthful Days—Miskoodell rescued from the Bear—Oosahmekoo with his Gold—Kinesasis’s Successful Hunt—His Furs Stolen—Marries Shakoona—Conflict with the Old Warrior.
The romantic and thoroughly characteristic Indian way in which Kinesasis had obtained his Indian wife was one that had very much interested Mr and Mrs Ross. They had known him for many years, and had ever been pleased with the kindly, helpful way in which he had always treated his wife, whom he called Shakoona. “Shakoona” means “the snow-white one,” and those who knew her well, and studied her quiet, gentle manner, said she was well named. The terrible loss of her children had been such a shock that her once black, luxuriant tresses had become as white as the snow, making her name more impressive than ever before.
The story of how he had obtained his wife Kinesasis was induced to tell one evening at Sagasta-weekee, when fierce winds were howling around the place and at times seemed to strike with such fury against the house that they appeared like wild beasts shrieking for their prey. As a general thing Kinesasis was not very communicative on matters relating to himself, but as Mrs Ross, who had some knowledge of how he had obtained his wife—indeed, her mother had a little to do with its consummation—had asked him to tell it for the pleasure of the boys and some good friends who had come over for a day or two from the mission, he could not refuse.
The great log fire roared in the large fireplace in the dining room, while round it gathered the expectant listeners. Mrs Ross had sent over to Kinesasis’s little home and had brought from thence Shakoona, his wife. She was now, like Kinesasis, getting up in years, yet she was the same shy, clever, modest, retiring woman she had ever been, and yet, as will be seen, there was that latent courage in her that mother’s love can best bring out. The inevitable pipe had to be produced and gravely smoked by Kinesasis, and those who would smoke with him, ere the talking could begin. When this ceremony was over Kinesasis, looking kindly at Shakoona, began:
“We had been children together in the forest. Our fathers’ wigwams were not far apart. With other Indian children we had played in the wild woods, among the rocks and on the shores of the great lakes. When large enough to help I had to go and try my skill in setting snares for the rabbits and partridges and other small game. The trail along which I used to travel each morning, as I visited my snares and traps, was the one in which I often found little Shakoona getting sticks for the fire in her father’s wigwam. He was a stern man and cruel, and very fond of gain.
“The years rolled on, and I was now a hunter, and could use the bow and arrows of my forefathers, as well as the gun of the white man, which was now being brought into the country. Shakoona was now grown up, and was no longer a child. We often met, and let it be known that we loved each other. Shakoona’s mother and the other members of her family were my friends, and they all had good reason to be my friends, for one summer, some years before, when Miskoodell was a little child, I saved her from the paws of a bear. Her mother had gone out to gather moss and dry it for the winter use. She had Miskoodell strapped in her moss-bag cradle, with its board at the back. While the mother was at work she left her little baby girl in her cradle standing up against a tree. As the moss was not very good just around that spot the mother wandered off quite a distance to find where it was better. While she was thus hard at work a large black bear came along from the opposite direction. I happened to be out in the woods with my bow and arrows shooting partridges and what other small game I could find, for I was then only a boy.
“Where this moss grows the ground is very damp, and it is easy to walk very still. I came along, not being far behind the bear, and there the first thing I saw was that big bear with that baby, cradle and all, in his forearms. He was standing up on his hind legs and holding it awkwardly, like a man does.”
This last remark created quite a laugh at Kinesasis’s expense; but Mrs Ross came to his rescue, and declared that the expression was correct. “For a man,” she said, “always awkwardly holds a young baby—the first one, anyway,” she added, as she saw her amused husband laughing at her.
“Go on, Kinesasis. You said last that the bear was standing on his hind legs, and awkwardly holding the baby, as a man does,” said Mrs Ross.